


Corina

by Yel_Ashaya



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Adventure, Cardassian Anatomy, Cardassians, F/M, Federation/Cardassian War, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Occupation of Bajor, Orion Slave Girls, Orion Syndicate, Romance, Setlik III Massacre, Slavery, Thriller, Unrequited Love, Wrongful Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-06-28 22:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15716637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yel_Ashaya/pseuds/Yel_Ashaya
Summary: The Alpha Quadrant is consumed by the Bajoran Occupation and the Federation-Cardassian War. The beautiful but enigmatic Corina finds herself on Terok Nor, where she has a chance encounter with Gul Dukat. She doesn't trust him but he's her only hope, and she soon finds herself drawn into a world of deception, danger, slavery and murder... and Dukat has chosen Damar as her chaperone.





	1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story has been sat in my computer for a few years, and I decided that I might as well publish it. I'm hopeful that I will continue this and make it into a proper fic, but we shall have to wait and see. I hope you all enjoy it! This is set towards the middle of the Occupation of Bajor, possibly during the Cardassian-Federation War.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek (though sometimes I wish I owned Dukat), but I do own my OC.**

When her eyes had been given the chance to adjust to the sudden darkness, she screamed. At least, she tried to scream. She writhed and wriggled and squirmed, but it was all to no avail. She tried to look her captors in the eye, in order to get a good look at them, but that didn't work particularly well, either.

"Stop moving," the Cardassian ordered her firmly. His voice was cold and emotionless.

She spat at him and he wiped the residue away with a mocking smile. "Let me go!" she yelled angrily.

He shook his head and smirked to his fellow officers as the dragged the defenceless woman to the chief of security.

The large, severely designed black chair swivelled around and she wanted to scream when she saw him. Yet another Cardassian. He steepled his fingers on the desk before him and leant forward. "Why, hello," he announced with mock happiness.

She saw her chance and lurched forward abruptly, trying to desperately escape the Cardassians' steadfast grip on her. They simply reached forward nonchalantly and pulled her back to them. The tears were pressing; burning the back of her eyes, but she knew that she had to hold them back. She wasn't planning on giving these aliens any sort of satisfaction. She sniffed and held back the salty tears.

"Remove your clothes," the hierarchal Cardassian demanded, his grey eyes managing to almost pierce her very soul, even though he was sat quite a distance away from her.

She shook her head determinedly and lashed out at the two guards holding her steady. Again, she spat at him, landing a glob of spittle in his face. "I'm a Federation citizen. You've got no right to do this!" she said, as if he would listen to reason. As if he cared what the law was.

"This is Cardassia," he simply replied, his tone floods with cold civility. "I can do what I please. You, my dear–" He paused, to stand up and walk over to her, touching her cheek softly with the back of his coarse hand "–cannot."

Despite being tired due to her struggling and lashing out at her captors, she fought hard against the welcoming desire to hang her head low and to appear defeated. But she was strong and she wasn't going to give in. She looked him in the eye. He was tall, his eyes were an uncomfortably piercing blue, and he was wearing the very geometric and deliberate uniform of the Cardassian military.

The leading Cardassian took a step back. "Now, remove your clothes," he requested again; this time, he sounded more urgent but it did not seem like a demand.

"No," she replied; she looked calm but inside, her heart was racing and her mind was thinking of a thousand unpleasant thoughts a minute. ""I will not."

The Cardassian rewarded her determination with a grim smile, and then he nodded to his subordinates and they shoved her against the wall abruptly.

She yelped in surprised pain as her back hit the hard metal wall. She closed her eyes right shut as she felt her hands being held above her head, and she shuddered, trying to squirm our of their grip. She felt a cold hand on the nape of her neck. One of the Cardassians acquired a small knife and slit the fabric of her dress from the neckline to the hem. She was nearly too overwhelmed to react. When she realised what had happened, she blinked in distressed alarm and tried to fold her arms, to cover herself up. They prised her arms apart, and she saw their lascivious smiles. But the overseeing Cardassian shook his head and intervened, for which she was very thankful. And it made her stomach churn, to think that she was even contemplating feeling grateful.

"That's enough," he snapped dominantly. "We must allow the young lady to maintain her dignity."

The subordinates looked at each other, then they both nodded and shrank back a little. The other officer shooed them away and they hurriedly left, obviously not wanting to feel his wrath to any further extent.

She crossed her legs where she stood and held the dress over her naked body defensibly.

"Now," she breathed. "Tell me what you want."

He, nonetheless, simply shook his head and smirked insufferably. "All in good time."

He took a step forward and his hand shot out, turning her head scrutinisingly from side to side. He grinned appreciatively and ran his hands down her sides.

"Tell me!" she spat, ignoring his advances.

He smiled and folded his arms reservedly, stepping back, frustrated. "My, you are quite demanding!" he observed mockingly. "I appreciate that." He handed her a towel.

"You bet!" She scowled and took the towel, wrapping it hurriedly around herself. "I have rights, you know!" she continued her rant. "You have to listen to me."

He threw his head back in a fit of barely contained low-pitched laughter. "As I have said, all in good time."

Another officer entered the dingy room and handed some clothing to the leading Cardassian. He snatched it hurriedly and placed it on his desk, and then the other Cardassian left.

"Now, tell me, girl. What's your name?" he asked, his demanding tone dropping rather significantly.

He sighed, but smiled, though she doubted that the expression was portraying true humanity. "I am Gul Telok."

"Corina," she muttered softly, determined to maintain eye contact with him throughout the exchange.

"What a lovely name."

"Your age?"

She sighed. "Twenty."

"And, you're human, yes?" he inquired.

She nodded slowly. "Yes."

He turned to leave.

She shot out her hand and struggled to grab a hold of his thick wrist. "Please," she said, the desperation now no longer hidden well. "Tell me what will happen to me."

He grunted. "You will find out. It is not customary for people like yourself to be given too much light on their circumstances."

She scoffed. "What? People like myself?" She wondered what he could mean. She wasn't Bajoran. She wasn't a spy. Up until now, her opinion on Cardassians had not been a particularly negative one.

He turned back to face her. "Yes. That is what I said," he replied nonchalantly.

She shook her head, countering his point.

"You'll get told later," he let on.

She bit her lip and held her breath, stepping forward to him. She didn't come up to his height, but came pretty close when she stood on her toes. She leant forward and breathed down his neck, "You know," she said as seductively as she could manage. "I could think of a few things I could do to say thank you, for being so understanding."

Gul Telok tried to lurch away from her gaze, but gave in very quickly. He couldn't resist her. She no longer looked angry or fearful. She had lowered her eyes and her voice; she very nearly smiled at him; she took a step forward. "I'm sure you could," he managed.

"So, what do you say...? Corina began hopefully.

Telok grinned and examined her figure. "I regret I've never seen a human female–" He studied her scantily-clad body "–like this." He leant in closer and touched her lips with his finger, caressing the suppleness of her skin. He looped his arms around her hips and that was when Corina made her move. She waited for him to get to his most vulnerable moment and then threw a kick at his crotch, sending him doubling over.

She punched his head as he fell and smirked at the sight of the unconscious Cardassian at her feet. She snatched up the clothes she had been given by him and winced as the rough fabric rubbed against her skin. She threw on the clothes in a huff and glared at the incapacitated alien before storming off.

Just as she had expected, she was stopped an apprehended pretty much as soon as she stepped just one foot out of the room. A tall, wiry Cardassian stepped in front of her.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" he asked, smirking.

Corina felt herself staring at him and shook her head. "Go ahead," she muttered defeatedly. "Take me hostage."

The man chuckled and sighed. "I wasn't going to take you hostage. You're not Bajoran. Why would I take you hostage?"

Corina blinked in surprise and stepped back. "Everyone seems to be doing that today," she murmured.

"You will be getting in the way here," he said icily. "I'll take you."

"You'll  _take_  me?" she repeated, alarmed. "You most certainly will not!"

He bent down, to her level and smiled, and she could have sworn she saw a glimmer of genuine feeling in his blue eyes. "You can either stay here with..." He sneered. "Telok and prepare for your impending trial, Corina. Or, you can come with me." He pulled her aside in the corridor.

She started away from him, her eyebrows raised in alarm. "You know my name?"

"I know many things."

Then, she realised something, after running through what he had previously said. "Trial?" She reached up and touched her forehead tentatively, suddenly realising that she felt a bit faint.

He nodded firmly. "What do you say?"

"And who the hell are you?" she asked hotly.

"I am Gul Dukat, Commander of the Second Order," he answered proudly.

"Then, shouldn't you be, like, commanding your Order?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't work like that," he responded.

"I'll go with you on one– no, two conditions," she finally said. "One: You tell me where we're going. Two: You tell me what my trial is for."

"You won't be attending the trial. I can clear that up. If you come back with me, that is," he suggested.

She had only ever really met one Cardassian other than this one, other than Gul Dukat, and that was Gul Telok, which made it extremely hard for her to decipher this Gul's true intentions. She bit her lower lip and considered, and then sighed. What would he want her for? Why did her wish for her to go with him? What did her welfare matter to him? Was it really a coincidence that Dukat had bumped into her when he head. But she shook her head free from those feelings and thoughts and apprehensions.

And so, Corina nodded and looked Dukat squarely in the eye. "Okay, I'll come with you."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I have very little idea where this is going but I hope to be updating regularly! Also, it's been a while since I wrote a Dukat fic. Enjoy!**

She had been following the Cardassian for what could have been hours but what was probably closer to ten minutes. As she walked, her eyes met the gazes of those that she walked past. They weren't like her, they weren't human. When a Bajoran saw her, a look of revulsion instantly overtook their features, until they were elbowed by gruff Cardassian overseers and forced back to work.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded, after having plucked up the courage to ask him.

"You sound worried," he observed, without stopping, slowing down or turning to face her. "There is no need to be, I assure you."

She scowled. "Answer my question: Where are you taking me?"

The gul glanced around himself, surveying his empire. He smiled grimly. "It used to be such a beautiful place. Bajorans and Cardassians working together as one, for a better cause. But now, what can I say? The station's falling apart!" He tutted and shook his head. "And, if I really must respond to your question, I will. I'm taking you away from here."

"The shuttle-bays were back there," she murmured, struggling to understand her whereabouts. A look out of the windows had assured her that she was in space, but that was all that she knew, and it was not a very comforting thought.

Dukat tried to ignore the smell of ore as it was processed. He laughed. "We're not going to the shuttle-bays."

"Then, where are we-" Her question was cut short when Dukat led her up a staircase. Below it, she could survey what the gul had called the Promenade, a busy, over-populated metropolis of shops and bars. A Ferengi bartender was bustling about down below. The Cardassian stopped and motioned her through what looked like the main operations centre. A crowd of Cardassian soldiers turned to look at her, but she overcame the desire to hang her head and not make eye-contact.

A gruff lieutenant came up to Dukat. "Sir, I'm getting reports that our forces on Setlik III are struggling to cope. Should I send reinforcements?"

Dukat pinched the bridge of his nose, aware that the young woman at his side was getting more and more agitated. "Damar, why don't you contact the Central Command? Stop making me do all of these things!"

_You're a busy man,_ Damar thought to himself, his interest piqued by the beautiful young woman hovering next to his commander. "I've tried sending a transmission to the Central Command, but they're not replying. I doubt that they even care. Sir."

Dukat groaned, and then he waved Damar back over to his station. "Just keep me updated. We can't spare any more troops. Send none to Setlik III."

"But, Sir-" Damar started, concern overcoming his features.

"Damar," Dukat said forcefully.

"They'll die without support!"

"That may be," Dukat said quietly. "But we're stretched as it is. You know that as well as I. We're fighting two battles here: the Bajoran resistance and the Federation!"

Corina rolled her eyes.  _Perhaps you should just give in? s_ he mused to herself.  _You're fighting a losing battle. The Federation will defeat you and the Occupation will continue for not much longer._

When Damar was finally satisfied with Dukat's words, Dukat led Corina away from Ops and into a small room that came off of it.

"I'm sorry you had to listen to all of that," he said bluntly, lowering himself into his chair. The computer terminal beeped at him almost as soon as he had sat down. He didn't quieten it straight away.

"Shouldn't you-" she started, nodding to the computer.

Dukat cut off the transmission angrily, rubbing his forehead. "You've heard of kanar, haven't you?"

Corina raised an eyebrow. "No. I have not." She wondered what it was, hoping desperately that it wouldn't be akin to Ferengi oo-mox.

Dukat gestured to a cabinet to the side of the room. He smiled at her when she hesitated. She went over to the cabinet and then picked up a bottle of a black liquid. When she poured it into a glass, it was viscous and syrupy.

"And one for yourself," he said, rather too kindly.

She did just that, and then she carried the two glasses over to the desk.

"Sit down."

She sat down.

He downed the kanar in little more than one gulp. "I always find that kanar calms one's mind."

She nodded slowly, unsure of where he was getting at. She sipped tentatively at the drink. It was very sweet and very thick, and she could hardly manage more than one sip.

"I'll drink the rest later."

"Oh, so you plan on staying here a long time, then?" Dukat asked, with a raised eye-ridge.

Corina cleared her throat and sighed. "No… no, I didn't mean it like that."

"Because I wouldn't object if you did mean it like that." His blue eyes bored into hers.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Looking over his head and out at the stars beyond, she said, "I'm on Terok Nor, aren't I?"

He didn't reply.

"Just answer my question. I'm not in the mood for playing games."

"With all due respect, my dear, I really don't think you're in a position to make such demands," he said simply.

She couldn't argue with that. He had, for all intents and purposes, rescued her, and she supposed that she had to feel somewhat thankful for that. "You're the station commander here, am I right?"

He nodded. His own vanity meant that he had to reply with a broad smile. "I control the entire space station."

She raised an eyebrow at his thinly-veiled arrogance. "You know me, don't you? When you… caught me in that corridor, you said that you knew my name."

"I know a lot of things."

"Please," she started, suddenly quite desperate. "Sir-"

He raised a finger. "Dukat." He sighed and leant forward in his chair, his hands forming a steeple on the desk. He was very close to her. "I, as I have told you, command the Second Order. The gentleman with whom you appear to have grown acquainted was Gul Telok. He commands the Sixth Order. His men are nowhere near as governed, as disciplined as mine." He smiled. "But I digress."

_You do,_ she agreed. "I don't understand any of this. What am I supposed to have done wrong? I'm human. I'm not Bajoran. What quarrel do you have with me?"

"You are aware that the Cardassian Union is presently at war with your Federation?" he inquired.

"Yes. Of course I am," she replied bluntly. "Oh, God," she then whispered, clamping a hand to her open mouth. "My brother."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head and stood up, about to make for the door. Where she was going to go, she had no idea. She was in the middle of space on an alien space station. She was light-years away from any aid. The Cardassians here hated her because the Federation was at war with them, and the Bajorans hated her because the Federation had done nothing to stop the Occupation.

But she didn't have much time to consider that because had walked over to her and had placed a restraining hand on her arm.

"How far do you think you'd go, really?" he asked, but it wasn't maliciously. He didn't sound particularly concerned for her welfare, either. "You know, Starfleet is at best a week away, and that's at warp nine. "My people have contacts within the Orion Syndicate. Who knows what interest a young, beautiful woman such as yourself would gather?"

She yanked her arm out of his grip.

"Now. Your brother. Let us start there."

She sighed, finding it very hard not to show him that she was on the verge of tears. "My brother, he's a… I don't know."

"A wanted man?" he interjected, studying her closely.

"Yes," she admitted with a nod. "I don't really know what he's up to. I haven't heard from him in months. The last time I spoke to him, he mentioned something about wanting to get revenge."

"Revenge?" Dukat looked very intrigued indeed.

"He's in Starfleet, and he..." Her voice faded off. Feeling very faint, she thought that she might collapse. She couldn't betray him. She couldn't betray her brother. The Cardassians were ruthless and they would not let him go. "But I don't know where he is now."

"Perhaps I could alleviate some of your concern?" Dukat suggested. He went over to the computer terminal and keyed in a few commands. A file appeared on the screen. A personnel file. There was a picture of her brother's face in the top right hand corner.

"Charlton Gordon Striker," Dukat read out. "Lieutenant. Wanted for crimes against the Cardassian Empire, including sabotage, fraud and murder."

Corina's heart faltered at that last charge. Murder. But her brother wasn't a murderer, was he? "That's not right. You've doctored it! I don't know how but you have! You're so angry that you're losing against us, against the Bajorans, that you've been forced to lying. It's dishonourable and it's disgusting!"

Dukat raised an eye-ridge, interested all of a sudden. He laughed grimly. "I assure you, that file has not been changed in any way. What reason would we Cardassians have to do that? We are  _not_ losing any war."

Corina frowned and rubbed her temple.

"Ah, how interesting," Dukat carried on, regarding the computer screen. "It looks like your brother was – and still is, I presume – on none other than Setlik III."

She had heard that somewhere. What was his name? Damar? Yes, that was it. "I think you might be losing the war there," she said quietly, but nonetheless she maintained eye-contact with him.

Dukat cleared his throat. "I mentioned a tribunal to you earlier, did I not?"

She nodded waveringly.

"It would appear that this is what it is for."

"I thought you already knew what it was for?"

Dukat laughed. "We Cardassians are known across the galaxy for our deceptiveness."

_Figures,_ she thought bitterly. "So, my trial?"

"Your brother is responsible for the death of Gul Telok's son."


	3. Chapter 3

Corina raised a wavering hand and shook her head. Gently, slowly, she sunk into a chair, not even caring if the Gul had not permitted her to sit down. She kept going over and over it in her head, but no matter how many times she went through it, it did not seem to make sense. She frowned and sighed, finding herself on the verge of tears. Your brother is responsible for the death of Gul Telok's son. Dukat's firm, cold voice rang loud in her head, again and again.

"You did hear me?" Dukat was staring at her, watching her intently, as perhaps an eagle or hawk watches a wounded rodent as it limps below on some vast plain.

Tearing herself out of her tragic reverie, she regarded Dukat, and the pair of them were now eye-to-eye. "Yes..." she started, tripping over her words. "Yeah, I heard you."

The Gul pursed his lips and then poured himself another glass of the kanar. Corina wondered why he didn't just ignore the facade and simply swig it from the bottle. He was obviously trying to maintain some pathetic air of decorum and propriety, but as far as she was concerned, Cardassians had no sense of decorum or propriety.

She sighed. And apparently, neither did her brother. But she wanted to fight it. "You're mistaken, though. I don't know how, but you're wrong. My brother's not a murderer. He – he wouldn't kill anyone. Even if that person happened to be Cardassian," she said urgently, forcing out the words almost as if she wanted to make herself believe that.

But Dukat, it seemed, was not fooled and was not in the mood for games. He raised a grey finger at her, having placed his glass of kanar back on the table. "I am not going to argue with it. You are clearly an intelligent young woman. What would be the point in us being at odds with each other?"

She opened her mouth to say something, to interject, to object.

He held up a hand. "As I was saying, Cardassians do not make mistakes, hence why our judicial system is as smooth as it is. It is the envy of the Quadrant." Seeing that she was about to make a point about that, he swiftly continued. "But I digress. You have just told me that you haven't seen your brother for months, that you haven't even been in contact with him."

"I did," she said softly, and she spoke those words as if they were more a question than a statement of fact. "I suppose I did say that."

"And people can change significantly, whatever the circumstances are, in so little time as months. You must understand that, surely?"

She resisted the urge to make a face at him, to swear at him. She had no time for patronisation, and his swaggering, smarmy demeanour was making her feel ill. "Yes. I understand it."

He glanced at the computer screen. "Yes. Lieutenant Striker is stationed on Setlik III."

And then she asked the question that she had been dreading to ask. "Is he… is he still alive? Is he okay?"

Dukat steepled his hands on the desk and seemed to muse over the matter for a bit. But he put her out of her misery sooner than she thought he would. "Yes. I believe so. I can't see anything to suggest the contrary."

A massive release of air released from her lungs then as she sighed with relief. For some reason, she looked beyond Dukat's shoulders and out of the window. Whether she was looking to God, to whatever star had a planet called Setlik orbiting it, she did not know.

"Do you know anything else? Like, has he been captured? Has he been wounded? Is he the only survivor?"

Rather than appear annoyed, Dukat looked amused by the barrage of questions aimed at him. He laughed quietly, and she couldn't tell whether it was a pleasant or disturbing sound. "The information that I get is… extremely limited."

But she wouldn't let it go, and she intended to find out what she could, even if it meant stroking the Gul's already-inflated ego. "Surely someone such as yourself – the commander of this space station, the Prefect of Bajor – would have access to these sorts of things?"

He seemed only vaguely pleased by her compliment. "Setlik III is not a strategic outpost, nor is it especially close to our present location. It is nothing to do with me."

"You understand, though, that even if my brother killed this Cardassian, it was done in war? And murder is legal during war," she, however, continued.

He smiled wryly. "My dear, I don't really think you understand quite what you're talking about."

"I don't understand?" she demanded, angry.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he carried on. "And I never thought that I would hear a Federation member, of all people, defending murder." He laughed to himself.

"I might be human and I might be from Earth, but I'm not my brother. I'm not Starfleet," she said shortly. "And from what… Damar was saying, there was a battle on Setlik III."

Dukat wondered how best to approach her next challenge, how he would twist the details in order to win her over. Or whether he would tell it to her straight. "That is how the Federation will describe it. But, in fact, they sent a fleet of ships – and your brother must have told you that their vessels are far superior to ours – to hit the planet's surface, which was populated by civilians and scientists, may I add, with barrages of photon torpedoes and phaser blasts."

In the short time that she had known the man, she had realised that it would be best to take everything that Dukat said with a pile of salt, but before she could react, there was the whoosh of air as the doors slid open. She turned to see the Cardassian officer that she had seen earlier enter with a sombre look on his face.

"Damar, what is it?" Dukat inquired, earnest.

The soldier cast a glower over at Corina; he was clearly wondering what she was doing in the Gul's office but quickly came to the conclusion that she was simply the latest comfort woman in Dukat's repertoire. Damar cleared his throat and shifted his feet. "We haven't back from Setlik III. We believe that they're all dead, all of our men. Starfleet slaughtered them all."

Dukat uttered some sort of swear which Corina couldn't decipher; she assumed that it was in Cardassian. "Starfleet," he said with a heavy, hateful sigh. "They knew that our defences couldn't stand up to theirs and yet they still attack us!"

Damar had a curious look on his face. He frowned at his superior officer and looked rather confused. Dukat swiftly got up from his desk and hushed Damar out of the door.

"Sir, what are you talking about?" Damar said in a whisper. "It was a human research base, wasn't it?"

"I know that, Damar," Dukat hissed, angry all of a sudden. "But we can't have our guest hearing that, can we? Regardless of what happened, Setlik III is too near our space. The humans should have expected that that would provoke a response from us. That they sent in Starfleet militia afterwards is only testament to the fact that we were well within our rights to execute the inhabitants."

Looking through the window in the door, Corina could just about make out Damar's face. He didn't look entirely happy or convinced, but Dukat was his commanding officer and he wasn't going to disobey. She saw that Dukat quickly dismissed Damar, and then she promptly returned to her seat in the main office.

"I do hope that human hearing isn't as refined as Cardassian hearing," Dukat commented.

She looked up at him. "I don't think it is."

"Stand up."

She had half been expecting this. She held her breath for a short time and then did as he had asked. "What for?"

He looked at her, scrutinising. Then he waved a hand in some sort of non-committal gesture and gestured to the door. "Come with me. I will show you your quarters."

"My quarters?" she echoed.

"Unless you wanted to sleep in Ops, but I can assure you, a young woman such as yourself would not go unnoticed," he said simply, looking over his shoulder as they walked.

She made a face of disgust. "Where am I staying then? With the Bajoran slaves that you've got working in the refinery? Or perhaps you'll put me with the comfort women?"

He laughed, loudly. "No, you'll be where you deserve."

An airlock? she thought, and the idea gave her chills.

"Next to me."

She shook her head vehemently. "No, thank you. I would rather not."

"Well, you don't really have a choice," he said simply. "I am offering you a chance that most people would jump at. It should be an honour."

She stopped in her tracks, in the middle of the Promenade, and stared at him, unbelieving. "I'm human. I shouldn't be here. The Occupation is out of the Federation's control."

"Ah, but the war isn't, is it?"

And as much as she hated to admit it, it was true. He was telling the truth. But she still had a few straws to grasp at. "People will notice that I'm missing. Hell, I shouldn't even be here! I got on a shuttle bound for Andoria! God knows why it was redirected to here."

"I can't answer that, but I ask that you just listen to me."

"And why should I do that? I don't know who you are. Yes, you saved me from that repulsive Gul Telok, but I don't feel particularly thankful. You said that you've saved me from my trial but I can't be put on trial for a murder that my brother allegedly committed during war. I'd be thankful if you could get me a shuttle and take me off of this station."

"I do admire your courage," he said, and he seemed to truly mean it, but Corina wasn't bothered by his flattery. "And, can I suggest that we keep moving? The Bajorans are looking, and they should be working." With that, he gave his Cardassian patrolmen a scathing look; they clearly were not doing their jobs properly.

And so Corina followed the Gul as they made their way into the Habitat Ring, through the maze of dirty-looking, hollow-faced, shoddily-clothed Bajoran workers, as well as the Cardassians with their phase rifles. She would have followed his lead grudgingly, but the pitiful appearance of the Bajorans, who were in far worse shape than she, persuaded her to at least try and appear grateful.

**A/N: be sure to expect a lot more from Damar later on! But I don't know how much time there'll be between when I publish chapters because I'm writing so many fics simultaneously!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here we go; chapter four! Sorry it's been so long, but I've been busy with, well, life.**

**Also, thank you for the review, Irishchick!**

They were only walking for a couple of minutes, but Corina soon found that even a short amount of time on Terok Nor could feel like a lifetime. Everywhere she stepped, every time she turned her head, she made eye contact with a sorry scene. She saw male Bajorans being yelled at and pushed around as they struggled to carry heavy loads of goods. She saw female Bajorans being leered at and laughed at by the soldiers. She saw small, skinny children eating stale bits of bread, clinging to each other as they watched their parents being dragged off to the mines.

And then she caught the eye of someone else, someone different, at the centre of the Promenade. He was evidently a Ferengi, and his lascivious attention was distributed between a dabo girl leaning over a table, a waiter who wasn't properly mopping down the bar, and Corina herself.

She furrowed her brow and looked up at Dukat. "Who's that?"

Dukat sneered and carried on working, not slowing down his brisk pace. "You'd be all the better for not knowing."

She bit her lower lip and surveyed the darkness, the humidity, of the Promenade. "Is this where your men eat?"

He waved a noncommittal hand and chuckled grimly. "Eat, drink, be merry."

"I'm guessing his name's Quark." She gestured to the massive sign above the bar.

"Then you're certainly observant." He offered her a dark smile. "I can see now why you never joined Starfleet. Far too cerebral."

Silence overcame the two of them again, and Corina took to counting her steps.  _One, two, three, four…_  She soon lost count and interest. The air was starting to get to her; it was stale and hot and cramped, and she was thankful when at last the Gul's pace slowed. Finally, he stopped. He keyed some sort of code into the computer panel at the side of the door, and the room behind it was revealed.

It was reasonably-sized, the furniture and décor all classically Cardassian, with geometric shapes and harsh edges.

"This is it?" she asked, gingerly stepping through the aperture when he had waved her in.

The corners of his mouth curved upwards in a sly smile. "This is it. It's rather nice, don't you think? Of course, this isn't the largest room."

She started to look around; it all looked very clean, very clinical, very grey. And very, very alien. "I'm guessing that would be yours?" she asked, without looking up to catch his eye.

"Why, it goes without saying." Again, he smiled, and it made her uncomfortable.

She met his eye, pursed her lips, held her jaw firm. "And I suppose I just have to see it, don't I?"

He laughed then, a low, bitter laugh. "Now, I wouldn't be so presumptuous."

She snorted, harrumphed.  _No, of course you wouldn't._

"Well, I'll leave you to… settle in. The replicator's over there; it can be a bit temperamental but it usually works fine. The sleeping and washing quarters are just through there." He hovered for a moment, watched her sharply, and then slipped back through the door, it slid shut, and she was left alone.

The couch – if that was what it was – didn't look at all inviting. She perched on it momentarily, and it was hard and uncomfortable beneath her. She knew that she could have held her head in her hands, rocked herself back and forth, and cried. But she knew that it wouldn't solve anything.

She looked out of one of the large windows – they stretched from the floor to the ceiling – and she wouldn't have been surprised if she was able to see all of space through them. The sky was startlingly black, the stars was brilliantly sparkly. She was looking for Earth, for home, but they all looked the same. A hundred million shimmering specks of light, and she wasn't sure which was the Sun. She didn't know where her homeplanet was; she didn't even know what sector she was in.

And then something caught her eye. In the foreground, she could see some of the upturned spires that formed Terok Nor's docking system. She saw movement; a small, orange ship, shaped rather like a cobra's head, was pulling away. Lights flashed. Then the tiny vessel engaged its impulse engines and powered away. In the distance, she saw it accelerate to warp, and it was gone.

She traipsed into what Dukat had called the 'sleeping quarters', and found that at least he wasn't lying. She saw a double bed, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. The sight made her want to break into laughter. All she had with her were the clothes on her back; the dress which Gul Telok had demanded that she remove, as well as her underwear and her shoes. She slipped out her clothes stepped into the shower. It wasn't a sonic one, and she was nearly bowled over by the sheer heat of the water that came cascading out of the showerhead. It must have been at least thirty degrees in her new quarters, and she guessed that the water was close to forty.

Nearly blinded by the sudden flow of water, she groped around and found the dial, and sighed with relief when the temperature became more bearable. She lathered herself in soap, desperate to wipe away the smell and the air of the place, but she was even more desperate to scrape off the marks left by Gul Telok's hands as he had clawed at her and held her.

When she stepped out of the shower, she wrapped what she presumed was a towel – and which was surprisingly fluffy – around her, savouring the feeling, the safety, that it provided her with. Then she caught her eye in the mirror, and wondered if she would cry. There were certainly tears pressing behind her eyes, and she could almost taste the salt, but she screwed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and they did not come.

Her hair was still wet, so that served to cool her down a bit, but she eventually decided that since she had some spare time, and since she didn't know how long she'd be there for, she headed for the replicator. The symbols and writing on it were Cardassian, and she didn't understand what any of it meant.

"Uh, Computer?" she began slowly, unsure, not holding out much hope.

Something beeped, and she almost smiled.

"Can I have a hairdryer, please?"

_"Please restate request."_

She groaned, pressed a hand to her weary forehead. "A hairdryer. Surely there's one in the database?"

Apparently, there wasn't – and she remembered that she hadn't seen that many hirsute Cardassians – so she had to describe the thing in detail. Finally, the replicator produced something. It was black and L-shaped, and when she looked into it, Corina could make out the element and the fan. She smiled; at least something was going her way.

She sat down on the edge of the bed – which was just as hard as the couch – and turned the device on. It made a strange, strangled sound, and she held it quite far from her head, for fear that it would explode. Eventually, though, she relaxed, and her hair grew less and less damp. The brunette locks rested on her shoulders, and she prepared to turn the hairdryer off and ask the replicator for a hairbrush. She had been so taken in with it all, so preoccupied, that she hadn't heard the footsteps, and she hadn't seen the maker of the footsteps.

She stared, aghast, and the hairdryer fell to the floor with a clunk. Instantly, instinctively, she hauled the towel around herself properly.

"What the  _hell_  do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her breath nearly running away from her.

There was that insufferable smirk again. "I did warn you of my visit. I pressed the commpanel."

"Well, as you can see, I'm a bit busy!" she retorted, feeling very wary, very vulnerable.

"I trust you're settling in well?"

The banality, the stupidity, of the question infuriated her. "Settling in? I've been here barely a few hours! I've been kidnapped, assaulted, criminalised, lied to, and now,  _apparently,_ I'm supposed to have accepted all of this?" She glared at him, her aquamarine eyes daring him to challenge her.

He crossed his arms over his armoured chest. "I could apologise to you, but..." He paused, and she felt his eyes on her, on every inch of her. "But it wouldn't be truthful of me."

She snorted. "And you're always truthful?"

"I am indeed."

"Then when will you tell me what's going on?" she asked, suddenly desperate, and she was afraid that her worries were starting to show through. "About Setlik III? About my brother? About my trial?"

"All in good time," he said swiftly, and before she had time to argue, he had left.

And she was left alone once more, alone on a space station that was so full of people. But none of those people could have helped her; she could have spoken to none of them. The Cardassians all thought that she was the station commander's latest comfort woman, and so was off-limits. The Bajorans all viewed her as some sort of favourite, and so held her in contempt. She was very alone, and she knew it. There was only one man whom she could depend upon, and that was Gul Dukat.


	5. Chapter 5

_Tick, tock, tick tock…_  The seconds turned into minutes and the minutes turned into hours. She had tried almost everything to get to sleep. She had tossed and turned, changed her position. She had got up out of bed and made herself some hot chocolate. She had made endless visits to the toilet. But there seemed to be no remedy, and sleep was content with evading her.

And so she dragged herself into a sitting position, and she saw the stars as the glittered above her, through half a metre of reinforced glass. The dark sky mocked her, laughed at her, leered at her; here, it was eternally night, and yet she could not sleep a wink.

She glanced at the clock beside the bed – the bed that she would now have to call hers – and swore. It was two o'clock in the morning, and she knew that Bajoran days were twenty-six hours long, so the night had barely begun. She thought of her own bed, the one on Earth, with its downy pillows and soft duvet. On the table beside it, there were holophotos of her family – even one of her brother. But here, there was nothing. There were no familiar faces watching over her.

When the clock struck three, she at last made a decision. She lurched out of the bed, sliding out from under the covers, and draped herself in the dressing gown that she had had the replicator create. Then she yanked open one of the cupboard doors and found what she was looking for: a padd. After a great deal of sighing and cursing, she found the on button, and it powered up with a quiet hum.

Her heart sank when she focused on the screen; it was all in Cardassian script, and she couldn't understand a word of it. But then a frown – a thoughtful frown – crossed her face. She peered closer, and realised that she recognised some of the symbols. Tentatively, she pressed one of them and it brought up a page that she had been expecting: a history of Terok Nor.

She clambered back onto the bed, crossed her legs, and as she did so, her finger touched the screen. She feared that she had broken the device, but the screen was still bright – as bright as anything Cardassian could be. Then a smile eclipsed the frown on her face as she noticed something. The text was now in English. It wasn't completely unexpected; after all, the Cardassian Union did have a relationship, no matter how bad, with the Federation, and Cardassian soldiers would've been expected to have a vague understanding of English in case the universal translator broke down.

And so she read through the document. Her eyes ran from left to right, and she wondered if she had ever read quite so fast. She smiled, thought of her schooldays, and wished that she was back there now. Apparently, construction had been started on the station in 2346; sixteen years ago. She ordered herself not to falter when she came across the passages describing the slavery, the forced labour camps, the comfort women, the poverty.

When she reached the end of the document, she saw that it was now seven o'clock, and she told herself that she might as well get dressed and washed. She sat down in front of the mirror; its jagged edges and sharp lines made it impossible for her to forget where she was. She reached into a little pot that was sitting on the table in front of her. Out of it, she pulled a small tube. She pulled it in two, and nearly laughed when she realised what it was; eyeliner.

 _Oh, so I'm supposed to look good, am I?_  She snorted, but put the stuff on nonetheless.

A further peruse uncovered some substance which Corina supposed was rouge, and some lipstick. She put it on, smacked her lips, and sighed. She didn't know whether to feel outraged at herself or at Dukat, or the Telok, or whoever had put her where she was.

There was a chime at the door. She took a deep breath, manufactured some look of composure to display to the visitor, and called them in.

The door slid open with a hiss, and in stepped Damar.

Corina watched the soldier with wary eyes. His jaw was set firmly, his gaze was stern and his feet were planted squarely beneath him. "What do you want?" she asked, irritation and worry finding their way into her voice.

A smirk graced his lips. He crossed his arms over his armour-plated chest. "Gul Dukat wants to see you."

"Oh, he does, does he?"

He stepped forward, but she didn't waver. "You ought to have more respect."

She bit her lip, sighed, told herself not to say anything else that she might have reason to regret. "When? Where?"

"You are to report to his quarters," came Damar's gruff response.

She nearly scoffed. "And he had to send you  _all_  the way here? I'm next door to him."

He grinned. "I know you are."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It doesn't have to mean anything." He shrugged. "Dukat expects you at 2100 hours tonight. If you look as… acceptable as you do now, I'm sure there won't be any problems."

He took one last look at her – a look that seemed to stretch for a long while – and then he was gone.

****

Her hand felt as if it were not her own as she brought it up and pressed the commpanel on the side of the door. She had stood in the corridor – surrounded by the emptiness, the darkness, the stuffiness – for longer than she cared to know. Two Cardassian glinns had passed her on the way, but apart from casting her curious glances, they did very little. She was, after all, just another of the station commander's many comfort women, wasn't she?

"Who is it?" came the voice, smooth and brusque as ever, over the comm.

She cleared her throat, found her voice and held onto it. "It's Corina."

_"Oh, come in, come in."_

The door slid open and she gingerly went inside, stepping over the boundary, and into the room. It was perhaps a little lighter than the rest of the station. One corner of it was dominated by a large computer console, all over which were flashing lights and screens. Behind that, there was a massive window, through which she could see more stars than she could ever have hoped to count. But it was what she noticed at the centre of the room which really caught her attention, and which caused the most confusion in her.

The table seemed to be made of metal, and around it were two chairs, one slightly taller than the other. The tabletop was littered with plates and bowls of all sorts of meals, and Corina had to blink once of twice to take it all in. There were fruits and breads and meats, and two very large bottles of what she knew was kanar.

That was when she noticed that he was staring at her. He had stood up from the couch where he was sat and was standing barely half a dozen metres from her. She suddenly felt very wary, very cold, in her dress. Abruptly, she brushed her hair forward, so that it rested on her chest, and she felt slightly warmer, slightly safer.

His eyes narrowed, and then a grin formed on his grey lips. "I am pleased you came."

"I didn't think I had a choice." Her voice remained firm.

He laughed, and Corina wasn't sure if it was an unpleasant sound or not. "Is that the impression that Damar gave you?" He shook his head, tutted. "I must have a word with him."

"Dukat, what did you want me here for?" she suddenly asked.

He furrowed his brow, raised an eyeridge. He gestured to the spread on the table. "You're not being very observant now."

She sighed, looked away briefly, and was relieved when she saw that he hadn't taken the opportunity to come closer to her. "I don't want to eat, Dukat. I want to know what's happening, why I'm here." She closed her eyes, opened them. "I want to go home."

"And you will," he said bluntly. "In time." A pause. "But, first, you will eat."

Before she could say or do otherwise, he had ushered her into the smaller chair, and had himself sat opposite her. He poured out two glasses of kanar, the liquid bubbling and viscous.

"Go on, help yourself," he said earnestly, waving at the array of food. "It's not poison."

"I'd have thought poison was exactly your style," she said without thinking. "Underhand, it leaves little trace."

He narrowed his gaze at her, and she started to apologise. Instead of chastising her, though, he just laughed.

"Yes, it does seem rather enticing, doesn't it?" he mused. "But what would be the sense in poisoning you? Corina, you're far too beautiful for that."

She snorted. "So I'm your comfort woman?" She picked up the cutlery and tentatively began to tuck into the bowl of soup on the table in front of her. It tasted rather nice, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it.

He raised a hand, apparently in indignation. "No, of course not. Is that what you think of me?" He shook his head, downed a glass of kanar. "You are my guest."

She sighed, brought a hand to her head. "I appreciate what you're doing, Dukat. But I want to speak to my brother. I  _need_  to know that he's okay. I don't want to be here, and frankly, I shouldn't even be here. You've got no right to keep me here. I'm a Federation citizen-"

"I'm not keeping you here to spite the Federation," he said swiftly, cutting her off. "I'm keeping you here for your own sake."

"But my family," she began. "They don't know where I am. They already might've lost my brother."

He poured himself another glass of kanar, then formed a steeple with his hands on the table. "I will send a message to your family, telling them that you are well. But that is all I can do. The Obsidian Order has eyes everywhere and I can't risk revealing too much information."

"But-"

"Your family will know that you are well, and so will Starfleet. But they cannot know where you are or how long you will be absent for."

"How long will I be  _absent_  for?" she asked the question, though she knew that she didn't want to listen to the answer.

"I cannot answer that." Upon her anguished look, he added, "I cannot answer that because I don't know."

Silence engulfed the room for a long time, until Corina set her cutlery down, took a sip of the kanar, and caught Dukat's eye once more. She glanced down at her dress. It was long and black and the neckline was low. She was, for once, glad for the Cardassians' penchant for high temperatures. "I saw a ship leaving yesterday. It looked Cardassian."

"That was Gul Telok's ship. A rather old design, actually. I expected better of him."

She groaned; she did not care about the age of Telok's ship. "Where was he going?"

The corners of the Gul's mouth curled upwards in a brief smile. "He was leaving for Cardassia Prime, I imagine. I can only presume that he feared what I would do with him once I found out that he'd assaulted a Federation citizen. We're already at war with your people."

She frowned. "I thought you were winning?"

"So did I."


	6. Chapter 6

The walk to Ops had taken longer than she would've liked. She wondered how large Terok Nor was; certainly, when she looked out of the few windows, it seemed to stretch on for miles, and the corridors appeared endless. She was making her way out of the Habitat Ring and through the Promenade. The usual sights, smells and sounds assaulted her senses.

Triumphant shouts of "Dabo!" rang out across the place, as did the indignant cusses of the soldiers who had lost; the latter were much more frequent.

She looked over to the bar and noticed the Ferengi wiping down the bartop. She wrinkled her nose when a rather burly Cardassian took a stool next to her.

The bartender narrowed his eyes at her, then he broke into a snaggle-toothed smile. "I haven't seen you here before."

She realised that he was looking at her nose, and she instantly grew self-conscious. "You can quit looking; I'm not Bajoran." She heard the soldier sat next to her make a noise of curiosity.

The Ferengi regarded her closely, and then he swallowed heavily when he noticed that the Cardassian soldier was very much scrutinising him. "It's a pity you're not Cardassian," the Ferengi babbled. "They are a great race."

She wanted to say something, to ask why he had said such a thing, but she knew that it would be best if she said nothing. And so she changed the subject. "I'd like a raktajino, please."

"Well, you're certainly come to the right place," the Ferengi muttered as he turned his back, pressed some buttons on the replicator, and turned around seconds later, presenting her with her order.

She took it gingerly.

"That'll be five slips."

She nearly laughed. "What?"

"Five slips," he repeated, rather unhelpfully. "Of latinum."

She frowned. "Latinum? I haven't got any money." She curled her fingers around the handle of her raktajino mug, and the sticky sweetness of the coffee was starting to make her feel dizzy. She cleared her throat. "Look, Quark… that is your name, right?"

He seemed slightly taken aback by her question, and  _very_  irritated by her lack of custom. "That's what the sign says."

"You can have the coffee back," she said honestly, pushing the mug of raktajino over to him. She was about to stand up when she felt a hand on her arm, and she saw that Quark had gone quite pale – as pale as it was possible for a Ferengi to go. She frowned.

"She can have it free of charge," came a smooth voice, and Corina didn't have to look up to see who the voice belonged to.

She regarded him, wide-eyed. "Dukat?"

"Oh, of course, Gul Dukat," Quark said quickly, hurriedly, and Corina could see the fear in the Ferengi's face. "My mistake." She felt Quark's hands on hers as he proffered the raktajino to her, and she took it clumsily.

"You didn't need to do that," she said bluntly, catching Dukat's grey eyes.

He shrugged. "No, I didn't. I could've let Pedak here throw you into one of the cells," he said, gesturing to the glinn who was sat next to her.

"I can still do that, Sir," Pedak piped up.

Corina scoffed, flinching and stepping away when she felt Padek's cold hands on her arms, pawing at her.

Dukat shook his head. "Leave her be."

The glinn picked up his glass of kanar and swigged it, then he stumbled out of Quark's bar and disappeared.

"I thought the arrangement was that you were to come straight to Ops?" Dukat inquired as they made for Terok Nor's command centre.

She tried not to look the Bajorans in the eye as they walked. "I thought the arrangement was for you to tell me about my brother. Besides, I was thirsty." She sipped at her raktajino.

The Gul let out a short, low laugh, and they stepped into the turbolift. The journey was silent but brief, and they were soon in Ops. Corina saw all of the crew stop what they were doing; she saw them all look at her. They all resumed their duties, however, when Dukat gave them all a stern look.

_He certainly thinks he's got them under his thumb,_  she mused.  _But he hasn't._

The doors to the commander's office slid open and they stepped in. Dukat poured out two glasses of kanar, setting them on the dark table. Then he took a seat, and gestured for her to do the same.

She perched herself on the chair opposite him, her hands still holding onto the raktajino mug firmly.

"Your trial is scheduled for a month's time," Dukat began; he spoke quickly and fluidly, and his eyes did not leave the computer screen for one second. "You will be tried on Cardassia Prime, in the capital city. Your sentence will be guilty, and your punishment will be death."

She opened her mouth, closed it. She blinked, blinked again. "But, that's-"

He grinned. "That's the Cardassian judicial system. Beautiful, isn't it?"

She scoffed. "It's barbaric."

But he merely waved a hand. "Call it what you will. Would you like to know more?"

"Oh,  _sure,"_  she murmured. "How about you tell me how I'm going to be executed? Perhaps I'll be flayed alive? Or boiled in a nice big pot?"

"Punishments from your Earth's ancient past, I believe?" He leant forward, narrowed his grey eyes, and steepled his hands on the desk. "The Cardassian people are a civilised people."

"Of course you are."

He snorted. "I could have you arrested and shot right now if I wanted to, you do realise that?"

She didn't even think over her response. "But you don't want to, do you?"

He hesitated, brought a glass of kanar to his lips, and held it there for a while. "How do you know that?"

"Because you said you'd help me." She paused, took a deep breath. "And I think you're a man of your word."

That brought a sly smile to his face. "That I am. Perhaps too much so."

She held back the desire to laugh, and instead remained calm. "Please, Dukat, what can you tell me about my brother?"

Dukat made a face of contemplation as he scrolled through the computer's records. "You should prepare yourself for disappointment, Corina. Lieutenant Charlton Striker is listed as AWOL; there's no recent record of him."

"But when was the last sighting of him?"

Dukat furrowed his brow, his eyeridges nearly coming together. "Three months ago. Stardate 39632.8."

She had stood up from her seat and was leaning over the Gul's shoulder, staring wildly at the computer screen. "Where?"

Dukat cleared his throat when he registered how close she was to him. "Magnus IV." A muscle in his jaw twitched.

"What is it?"

"It's owned by the Orions," Dukat said, his voice still rather matter-of-fact.

She gasped. Feeling slightly light-headed, she stumbled back and clung onto the windowpanel for support. "That doesn't necessarily mean..."

"Magnus IV is the site of one of the Syndicate's biggest slave markets."

"He might have been a trader," she reasoned, though she wasn't sure which image of her brother was the more inviting – that of him as the slaver-trader or as a slave.

"I do admire your hope," he said, actually sounding honest.

She sighed, looked out at the stars, and pleaded to whoever might have been listening to direct her to Magnus IV. Then she remembered who she was, where she was, and what was going to happen. She caught Dukat's eye. "Tell me about Setlik III."

He looked visibly uncomfortable, but he cleared his throat and came to stand in front of her. He handed her the other glass of kanar, which she took warily.

"The planet is in Cardassian space," he began, looking out at the canvas of stars that formed the night sky. "Starfleet was using it as a weapons base, and we sent in our soldiers to teach them a lesson."

Slowly, she nodded. "And Gul Telok's son was one of those soldiers."

"A complete hot-head."

"Like father like son."

Dukat caught her eye and smiled briefly. "Now, as far as I can tell, your brother led an ambush which resulted in the death of Gul Telok's son."

She groaned, pressed a hand to her forehead. "But it was war. It still is," she said forcefully, urgently, "If a soldier kills another soldier in times of war, it can't be called murder."

"Ah," he began, raising a finger. "But there was no formal declaration of war. Hence my use of the word ambush. Starfleet engaged in guerrilla warfare. Gul Telok's son was a soldier, yes."

She nodded earnestly. "And so was – is – my brother."

"But Setlik III was not a battleground."

Her face fell, and a tear dropped from her eye. She felt it carve its salty path down her cheek, and then it was gone. She wanted to protest, desperately so. But she had no idea what to say, and she had no idea what to do. She had seen the document on the computer screen, and she didn't think that Dukat was lying to her. After all, he had saved her from whatever would've befallen her had she been left with Gul Telok.

"My brother is a murderer."


	7. Chapter 7

"There was silence – an uncomfortable, tangible, awkward silence – in the room for a long time. The stars glittered outside of the window, the kanar bubbled gently in the glass, and all Corina could hear was her own breathing. It was slow and measured, as if she had to preserve her breath.

Dukat broke the deathly quiet by drumming his fingers on the metal windowsill. "In Telok's eyes, yes."

The triteness of his response snatched her out of her reverie and she glowered at him. "Well, they're the only eyes that matter, aren't they?"

But Dukat simply shook his head and tutted. "No, no. That's where you're wrong." He paused, and when he caught her gaze, she found it impossible to look away. "While you're on this station, you're my problem. Hence why Telok ran for it yesterday."

But I can't stay here," she protested, glumness taking over her features.

He pursed his lips, sighed. "No, you can't. As much as I want you to." Briefly, he considered reaching out to cup her chin, to touch her soft face, but he didn't.

She narrowed her eyes. "Will you help me find my brother?"

He raised a hand. "No, I can't."

She scoffed, rounded on him. "What? Why?"

"Because the Cardassian Union has a good working relationship with the Orions. I can't simply storm in, all guns blazing, and demand that the Syndicate hands over one of their slaves," he retorted.

"So, what? I just hang around here watching you and your men work those poor Bajorans into the ground?" She turned away, looked to the night sky, willing it to take her away, to take her anywhere but where she was, to take her to her brother.

Dukat shook his head vehemently. "No, of course not," he said finally.

"So you think if I stay here long enough, I'll eventually give in to your endless charm and jump into bed with you?"

He tried not to look offended, covering up his indignation with a bitter smile. "That's not what I had in mind. Though, of course, I wouldn't be entirely opposed to the idea."

She groaned, pressed her forehead against the glass, and sighed. "I can't just stay here and do nothing. Why can't you see that?"

"I do see that," he said. "On Cardassia, the family unit is one of the most respected aspects of society."

"He's my brother, Dukat," she muttered. "Sure, he's done wrong, and I'll never forget that. But I can forgive him. If you help me find him."

"I did say that family was  _one_   _of_  the most respected aspects of our society. The other is service to the state."

She scoffed. "I never had  _you down_  as one to follow orders."

He raised an eyeridge. Slowly, he nodded, confused as to where she was taking their conversation. "It is."

"Then surely you can get me a shuttle, or something? I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can. Please, Dukat." She turned to face him and took his hand; it was cold and decorated with minuscule scales.

He looked down at her small, soft hand in his, and seemed to consider. "You won't stand a chance in a shuttlecraft. You'll be shot down by a Cardassian patrol before you even leave our space." Then his face grew darker, and she set her hand free. "For all I know, you could dock at the nearest Federation starbase, whereupon you will be urged by some self-righteous admiral to support a proposed rescue mission to Magnus IV. The Orions will not thank me for  _that."_

She threw her arms up in despair, took a deep breath. "I hadn't even  _considered_  doing that until you suggested it," she said pointedly. "And I certainly wouldn't want to risk the lives of even more people in order to rescue my brother." Purposefully, she caught his eye. "It ought to be me, and only me, who goes."

"If anyone goes at all," he added bluntly.

"Honestly, Dukat," she continued, careful not to make her words sound like a plea. "What  _do_  I have to do?" She considered then what she would do, what she would be prepared to do. She watched him closely, analysing the details of his face, his body, and told herself that he wasn't actually unattractive. He had watchful grey eyes; he was tall and slim; his jawline was sharp. So she stepped forward and placed a shaky hand to his cheek, and was surprised to find how soft the skin was. He caught her eye, slightly alarmed, but he did not stop her.

She ran her hand down his neck, along the row of ridges, and she felt him shudder at her touch. She pressed a little harder, and he shuddered once more. His eyes met hers and her beauty, her fire, was now more obvious to him that it ever had been. He longed to lurch forwards, to press his lips to his, to take her back to his quarters.

But he didn't. In one swift movement, he stepped away from her, and she regarded him, wide-eyed, open-mouthed.

"I thought-" she began, before bringing a hand to her face and coming into contact with a salty tear. She shook her head, looked away, confused and ashamed.

"I'm doing this for your own good," he said simply, brusquely. "You are beautiful, Corina, and you must believe me when I tell you how much self-restraint it took to do what I just did."

She cleared her throat. "You want a medal?"

He laughed. "Corina, even if you managed to get out of Cardassian space, the Orions would be on you like a pack of Maklar wolves on a grazing beast."

Deep down, she knew that he was right.

There was a buzz at the door, and Dukat sighed, pinched his nose, then called the person in.

"Damar?" Dukat observed, waving the man in. "What is it now?"

Damar looked at Corina and narrowed his eyes. "With all due respect, Sir, this is sensitive information."

Dukat waved an indifferent hand. "And?"

"And  _she_  shouldn't be listening."

Corina gave the Gul an anguished look before pushing past Damar and finding herself once again on the Promenade.

Her mind had been so full of ideas and wishes and regrets that she hadn't noticed that she was on a collision course. She bumped head-first into someone and stopped in her tracks.

She lifted her gaze up and came face-to-face with someone she'd never seen before. She didn't even recognise the species. "I'm sorry… Sir," she eventually managed to say, rubbing her head.

The man scrutinised her. He was tall and thin and was dressed in simple brown clothing. His eyes were quite sunken, and Corina wondered if he was feeling unwell. His taut, serious face was framed by a mop of slicked back pale hair. He didn't say anything; he simply stared at her.

"I wasn't looking where I was going, you see," she rabbited on. "And I've just been having a bad day."

Then he harrumphed and folded his arms. "You've been to see Gul Dukat?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

She nodded. "I – yes. I'm on my way back to my quarters." She hesitated, upon noticing his suspicious look. "I'm his comfort woman."

That revelation seemed to make the alien slightly uncomfortable, and he stepped aside, so that she could move past.

She looked up at him. "My name's Corina, by the way."

Again, he was quiet for a while. "Odo."

She began to go on her way, and when she turned back, Odo had gone. Once more, she was reminded of where she was, as she was surrounded by the sound of yelling and crying and cursing, and overcome by the sight of a Bajoran woman being dragged away from her children, of a Bajoran man being struck by the barrel of a gun, of a Bajoran baby bawling. She closed her eyes, but it was no use, and she felt compelled to walk past Quark's, past the security cells, until she came to a little boy who was standing in the corner.

She approached the child slowly, gingerly. When she hunkered down beside him, she could see the fear in his dark eyes. "Hello," she said softly.

The boy looked like he wanted to shrink away, but he stood firm. He looked about five or six, and Corina attempted to console herself with the knowledge that the child was likely to young to understand the scope of what was happening. But he didn't have to  _understand,_  as she reminded herself. He could see what was happening, and that was probably enough.

"My name is Corina."

The boy shifted his meagre weight from foot to foot. "I'm Benal Minok," he said quietly. "I'm hungry."

She only had to look at him to see that. "Wait here. I'll be right back." She reached out to place a comforting hand on the boy's grimy shoulder – all that she could – and she crossed the Promenade.

"Quark?" she called, and the Ferengi appeared behind the bar in little time.

He had a perturbed, irritated look on his face. "What'll it be?" he asked in a tone of mock-interest.

"I'll have ten Altair sandwiches," she said hurriedly, watching the little boy out of the corner of her eye. "And don't spare the shrimp."

The Ferengi's facial expression turned even more sour, but he recognised Corina's face and knew that she had Dukat's ear, so he had little choice but to do her bidding. After a couple of minutes, the plates of food were on the bartop. She felt a bit bad for taking the dinners; she was robbing Quark blind. But it only took one further look at little Benal Mitok to wipe those concerns from her mind.

"Thank you," she said honestly, as she walked quickly over in the direction of the Bajoran child. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She tried to shrug it off, but the hold was firm, and she was forced to stop and look up. She saw a Cardassian's smug face leering down at her.

"What are you doing with all of this food?"

His gruff voice didn't deter her. "I'm going to give it to the Bajorans."

He scoffed, then laughed. "No, you're not."

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth. "I am." She yanked herself free from his grip and stormed over to Benal; she hurriedly handed him the food, and the boy's smile was the greatest thank-you that she could have asked for. The boy gave her a delighted smile, and then he disappeared. Corina saw him hand out the sandwiches to a group of Bajorans who were huddled near the foot of the stairs to the upper level.

When she turned around, she was once again confronted with the zealous dalin.

He narrowed his eyes at her, and his face was thoroughly unpleasant. "You're going to regret that."

"What are you going to do?" she demanded. "Put me to work in ore-processing?"

The corners of his mouth curled upwards in a hideous smile. "No. You're far to precious for that." He grabbed her hand and dragged her over to a dark corner; he had her pressed against the damp wall.

She tried to resist, to push away from him, but he was too strong and too determined. She attempted to slip under his arms, but he was too quick. She tried slapping him and kicking him, but she was against the wall and she realised that she was running out of options. "I know Gul Dukat!" she spat, hating that she had only him to rely on.

"Of course you do," the dalin said, a wicked grin on his lips. He pinned her arms behind her, and as much as she wanted to scream, she knew that would make it worse. She also doubted that anyone would take much notice of what was going on; after all, from not to far a distance, a human looked an awful lot like a Bajoran.

"I do," she hissed. "I'm his personal guest, and you're going to pay for this!"

_"Personal guest?"_  he repeated with a snort. "Is that what he's calling you lot now? No, I'm having you to myself."

But she never felt his lips on hers, his vile body against hers. She blinked and focused on Odo. Except he wasn't standing nearby. He was standing across the other side of the Promenade. His arms, however, were clasped firmly onto the troublesome Cardassian. Corina stared, open-mouthed, completely confused, but thankful.

Odo made his way over. "Gul Dukat has a very strict policy on these matters," he said gruffly, his eyes boring into the dalin's.

But she was giving food to those despicable Bajorans," the soldier said. "What even is she? Human?"

She scoffed. "Yes, I am."

Odo rubbed his chin. "A Federation citizen being attacked by a Cardassian. This will not go down well with Dukat."

"Then don't tell him," the soldier snapped. His tone had been firm, but his wide eyes betrayed fear.

"Don't tell  _him what_?"

The dalin tried to defend himself, but he soon faltered and eventually fell silent. He hung his head, waited for Dukat's response.

The Gul did not waste any time. "Odo, I trust you've been enforcing my laws?" He looked to the Changeling.

Odo regarded Dukat and didn't relax his hold on the irksome soldier. "Yes, Gul Dukat."

"And what was this man of mine doing?"

"He was assaulting this young lady – Corina, I believe her name is. She told me earlier that she was your comfort woman, and naturally, I had to intervene," Odo said swiftly.

Dukat looked over at Corina, and the two of them shared an unreadable look. "Then you did the right thing, Odo. Be sure that everyone knows that Corina is not to be touched."

The Changeling nodded in understanding. Dukat began to walk away, but Odo cleared his throat. "Sir, what should I do with him?"

Dukat caught the dalin's eye, and considered. "Throw him in a holding cell. Give him no food until 2200 hours tomorrow."

The dalin wanted to protest; Corina could see that. But he knew better than to challenge the station's commander, and was silent as Odo hauled him away.

Corina found herself running in an effort to keep up with the Gul. He saw her by his side, stopped and smiled.

"You're welcome."

She blinked and grudgingly offered her gratitude.

"You told him you were my comfort woman?" His voice was hushed as they traversed Terok Nor's Habitat Ring.

For a split second, she was caught, stuck. "I- It wasn't wishful thinking, if that's what you're getting at."

He grinned. "Certainly not."

"It was just the first thing that popped into my head," she continued, trying not to look the huddled, dirty Bajorans in the eye as she passed them. "And you don't  _own_  me, you know."

"I doubt I could tame you even if I tried," he said shortly, and she didn't know whether to be pleased or alarmed by that sentence.

"You didn't have to escort me to my quarters, you know," she said as they came to the door.

His mouth was a straight line. "I know I didn't have to. I wanted to."

She was quiet, considered awhile. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

His ignorance threatened to enrage her. She pinched her nose, sighed. "Why are you and your people oppressing the Bajorans? What did they ever do to you?" As soon as she had asked those questions, she knew that she had stepped over that invisible line.

His expression changed from unreadable to one of irritation. He stepped away from her and narrowed his eyes. "I'll bid you good day."

Corina harrumphed and sauntered into her quarters. It was a nice room, if sparsely decorated and filled with uncomfortable furniture. But she knew it was more than the Bajorans had. She had a replicator in her quarters, from which she could summon up all sorts of culinary delights. The Bajorans were fed in some sort of soup kitchen; they ate the same bland slop everyday, the portions of which were negligible. Odo had intervened earlier, he had said, because she told him that she was Dukat's comfort woman. If she had been any other woman – a Bajoran – Odo would likely have looked away.

She flopped down on the couch and sat there for a long time. She watched the stars. She surveyed the grey interior of the room. She sighed.


	8. Chapter 8

 

Corina got herself a glass of water and had the replicator create a simple dish of pasta. She had poked and prodded the spaghetti, winding it around her fork, letting it fall off, and then started again. It soon grew cold, but she ate it anyway. Tasting the water reminded her where she was, that she wasn't at home. It tasted stale and unnatural.

When she went into the bathing quarters, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She saw her brunette hair, thick and wavy. She saw her eyes, intelligent and blue. She saw her face, delicate and porcelain. Yet, she didn't see her usual smiling self; instead, if could have been a ghost. She was upset with herself, angry with herself, for her actions earlier, for attempting to seduce Dukat. That wasn't who she was, and Terok Nor had changed her.

The impatient beeping of the commpanel interrupted her reverie. She wiped her eyes, held her breath, went to the door and opened it. "What do you want?"

Damar raised an eyeridge, snorted. "Gul Dukat sent me to check in on you."

"Did he?" she repeated derisively. "How kind of him."

He didn't go away, though.

"Was there anything else?"

There was no verbal response to that question; Damar simply swaggered forwards, past her confused form, and into the room.

She shrugged. "Oh, yeah, sure, come in."

He ignored her obvious irritation and watched her closely. "I don't know what it is about you, or what you've done, but you've certainly caught Dukat's eye."

"He asked you to discuss this with me, too?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned. "Not as such. I'm only curious."

"Then I trust your curiosity is satisfied?" she muttered. "Can you leave now?"

"Dukat trusts me implicitly," he carried on. "He is my commanding officer and I have a great deal of respect for him. As such, it is my responsibility to protect him from any threats."

She nearly laughed. "You think that I'm a __threat?"__

"Perhaps," he said indifferently. "But it certainly seems as though you've got him under your thumb."

"Oh, I don't think I do."

Damar smiled briefly, slyly. His gaze traced the outline of her body, the feminine curves, the pretty face, the intelligent eyes. "Each of his comfort women think that they're special, that they're the one."

She groaned. "I'm _not_ his comfort woman."

He snorted. "Of course you are."

"Is that really all you think about?" She shook her head.

He made an unperturbed face. "You look like one and you've been spending time in his office and his quarters."

She was forced to consider. She had been on the station for nearly two weeks, and she knew that Damar was speaking the truth. Some of the truth, anyway. "So what?"

"So… Dukat is a very difficult man to get to know," Damar continued. "He picks his friends wisely. With women, on the other hand, he has a different one each week."

"So you're saying that I can't be his friend because I'm a __woman?"__

"Not where Dukat is concerned," he said, a wicked smile on his lips.

"I'd like you to go now."

She didn't watch him leave. Instead, she gathered up her dinner stuff, put it on the replicator, keyed in the command for it to disappear. Then she washed, changed and clambered into bed. She lay awake on the hard, uncomfortable mattress, and as she looked to the dark ceiling, she thought of Magnus IV, of her brother and what he had done.

****

"Good morning," she murmured to herself. She propped herself up onto her elbows and squinted at the chronometer. It was 0900 hours. Through the door, she was sure that she could hear the obnoxious marching of soldiers and the sombre cries of the Bajorans.

She spent the majority of the day pacing around in her Spartan quarters. When she wasn't pacing, she was staring desperately out at the dark blanket of the sky. But she knew that she couldn't just hang about and do nothing. There was very little that she could do, but she could do something. She considered offering Quark her services as a waitress, but then she sighed in defeat. Of course, she __could__ take up a position at Quark's, but Dukat would be watching her like a hawk, making sure that she didn't try and give the Bajorans food in sympathy. And, though she hated to admit it, she needed Dukat's favour. Without his help, her chances of locating her brother were slim.

She looked in the mirror and decided to tie her hair up; the heat was starting to get to her. It was even worse out in the corridor; the air was sticky and sweaty and unpleasant. But she took a deep breath and carried herself briskly through the Habitat Ring, through the Promenade, and up to the Prefect's office.

"I hadn't expected you to make an appearance," Damar observed bluntly.

"Surprise," she muttered, a hollow smile playing on her lips. "I want to speak with Dukat." She made for the door but the Cardassian swiftly stepped in front of her.

He looked down at her pointedly. "He's busy," he said, putting an obstructive arm out.

She watched through the window in the door. "No, he isn't."

Soon enough, the door slid open behind her, and Dukat's voice boomed out of the room. "Corina. What a pleasant surprise. Damar, let her in."

"But, Sir-" the soldier began, only to be cut off by one of Dukat's withering looks. With that, Damar slunk back, but not without glowering at Corina.

"I have to say," Dukat began. "I do like you with your hair up."

Unwittingly, she reached up and touched her hair. Then she remembered where she was and why she was there, and she cleared her throat. "I guess I should apologise for how I spoke to you yesterday."

"I guess you should," he said shortly, but there was a smile – an unreadable smile – on his face. "But I'd have my doubts as to whether or not it was genuine."

"Is that dalin still in the holding cell?"

Dukat nodded, spread his hands on the desk, and gestured for her to sit down. "He is. I don't tolerate that kind of behaviour amongst my men."

"You don't?"

He looked visibly upset, but Corina reminded herself that the man was just one big façade. "No, I don't," he said. "He's always been a piece of work, Dalin Metek. It's about time he learned his lesson."

She pursed her lips. "Have you considered my proposal?"

He rubbed his chin. "I have helped you thus far-"

"And I'm thankful for that," she interrupted.

"But I cannot risk the Union's good relations with the Orion Syndicate for the sake of your brother."

"Would you if it were your brother?" she suddenly asked.

"It isn't my brother," he replied simply.

With that, she sighed, pressed a hand to her forehead. "Then there really wasn't any point to any of this, was there? You should've left me in there with Gul Telok, I would've been carted off to Cardassia, and then executed."

He smiled. "As the Prefect of Bajor __and__ the Commander of the Second Order, I have certain obligations to fulfil," he said, to which she raised a curious eyebrow. "I am the figurehead of Cardassia, if you will."

 _ _You keep telling yourself that,__ she mused.

"As such, my image has to be well-maintained."

"I really don't think that your image is being helped by the fact that you're working millions of Bajorans into the ground _and_ you're at war with the Federation."

 _“_ _ _I__ did not start the War," he said simply, ignoring the first half of her statement. "As I was saying, while I have a certain degree of… celebrity to live up to, there are those who don't."

A frown creased on her brow. "What are you getting at?"

"I will not be accompanying you to Magnus IV," he continued smoothly.

"Then who will?" She thought briefly about Odo; he had made a good first impression on her, and she would've been glad to distance herself from Cardassians.

The Gul's eyes glinted mischievously. He pressed a slender finger to the computer panel on his desk. "Damar? Can you come in here?"

In a short while, the doors slid open with a hiss, and Corina buried her face in her hands.

Damar came in with a frown on his face. "Sir?"

"Have a seat, Damar," Dukat said, waving him in. The Gul's face was dominated by a large grin.

"I thought you wanted me to monitor the casualty reports," Damar began, stuttering slightly. He attempted to leave but was put back in his place by a glare from his commanding officer.

Dukat spread his hands on the desk, leaned forwards, looking closely at the two people sat before him.

Corina could see that Damar was watching her balefully out of the corner of his eye, and she knew that she felt exactly the same way.

"You've got some leave coming up, Damar," Gul Dukat began, his tone of voice brusque and serious. "And you may as well spend it productively."

"Sir, I-" the glinn began, only to be silenced by Dukat once more.

"I won't hear any arguments," Dukat said firmly.

A nervous smile appeared on Corina's lips. "Really, Dukat, I'd rather go by myself."

"Go?" Damar repeated, alarmed, confused. "What is she talking about?"

"Corina's brother is currently on Magnus IV," Dukat continued matter-of-factly. "She wishes to rescue him, if need be, but I cannot go with her."

Damar raised an eyeridge, nearly laughed. "What on Cardassia are you talking about?" He shook his head, pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's a human, Dukat. We're at war with her planet! What should we care if her brother's being held hostage by the Orions? Good riddance, I say."

Corina balled her hands into fists at her side and bit her lower lip, fighting back the urge to slap the Cardassian there and then.

"Damar." Dukat's voice was firm and stern and neither Corina nor Damar had the gall to interrupt him this time. "I only promoted you recently. You can be demoted just as easily."

Damar stared at his commanding officer, wide-eyed. "I apologise, Sir," he said gruffly. "But this woman's business is none of our concern – none of _your_ concern."

"She is on my station and that makes it my concern," Dukat finished smoothly.

Corina groaned, pressed a palm to her forehead. She stood up suddenly, so suddenly that she barely registered doing it. "Dukat, please. This isn't working. I just need to get to a starbase, and I can make my way from there."

"You know I can't do that," he said simply, and as much as she hated to admit it, his words sounded sincere. “And, can you even fly a craft? Cardassian or otherwise?”

She groaned, but she didn't want to admit defeat. “Of course I can't fly a ship! I'm asking you to let me leave on a transport that's destined for Federation space. Charlton's my brother. Damar is right about one thing: it's not __your__ problem."

Damar grunted, unsure whether or not he should've been pleased by her comment.

She felt Dukat's grey eyes on her, and she turned back around to face him. She sighed, tucked an unruly tendril of hair behind her ear. "I'm thankful for what you've done, really," she said, and she meant it. "I don't approve of what you're doing, but I guess it's not my place to say so. But, honestly, it would be better if I just went on my way. I'll be out from under your feet in no time, and you can forget about all of this."

A smile appeared on Dukat's lips. "Oh, I don't want to forget this."

There was a noise of irritation from Damar, and that, at least, made Corina smirk. "Sir, she makes a good point."

"Yes, I suppose she does," he said shortly. He got to his feet. "Damar, pack your things. You're leaving first thing tomorrow."

"Sir-" he began to protest, but he really had no words to say, nothing that would form a coherent argument.

Corina looked over at him, and the two of them shared a look of sorts.

"If we're all finished here, then I do believe you've got duties, Damar. And, Corina, you can return to your quarters."

 _ _Oh, can I?__ she thought to herself. And so she dragged herself out of the Prefect's office, and she went through the Promenade without even stopping. Once she was back in her quarters, once she was alone, she sunk down onto the hard couch and sighed a heavy sigh. She wanted someone to talk to, but here she had no friends or family. There was Odo, of course, but she had only met him twice, and she wasn't even sure of how to interact with a shapeshifter. Then there was Quark, and she already had the feeling that spending too much time with him wouldn't be a good thing. The Bajorans barely acknowledged her, and when they did, it was to mutter curses or gossip about her. That only left Dukat and Damar. It was becoming clear to her that it was a case of choosing the lesser of two evils. Dukat was the architect of so much evil and upset, and yet he had saved her from a likely unpleasant fate, and she depended on him.

She spent the rest of the day packing up her things into a satchel. She wasn't entirely sure what to take, and she no idea what to expect once she was on Magnus IV. If they even landed there, that was. She picked out a few changes of clothes, all of them Cardassian in design, except for the dress that she had come to the station wearing, folded them up and put them into the bag. She also picked up the padd that she had found in the room.

After a few hours of dithering, she went over to the computer console and turned it on. "Computer, where are Glinn Damar's quarters?"

There was almost an eternal silence as the aged computer buffered and loaded, but it eventually answered her question.

 _ _"Glinn Damar's quarters are located in H-18-C,"__ came the dull response.

She headed for Damar's quarters; they were situated on the corridor adjacent to hers, and so she got there very quickly. It also meant that she had very little time to prepare any preamble.

Tentatively, she pressed a finger to the commpanel. It buzzed, and the glinn's gruff voice called her in.

Seeing that it was her, he raised an eyeridge.

"I wanted you to know that I'm no more comfortable with this than you are," she said quickly, glad to have those words leave her.

He laughed grimly. "Is that it?"

She cast her gaze discreetly around the room; it was in disarray. There were spare uniform pieces and abandoned padds lying anywhere and everywhere. She also noticed quite a few bottles of what looked like kanar, most of which were opened and very close to being finished.

"Have you ever been to Magnus IV?" she asked, still standing rather awkwardly.

He shook his head, smiled, evidently amused. "No. It's not exactly a holiday destination."

"Neither have I," she said quietly. "Dukat said it's one of the Syndicate's most important planets."

"Then there's your reason for why I've never been." He stood up, retrieved one of the bottles. He caught her eye. "Kanar?"

"No, thank you," she said, desperately hoping that she'd never have to drink that awful stuff again.

He shrugged, poured himself out a glass, and drank it eagerly. He gestured for her to sit down, and she did so gingerly, and then he perched himself next to her.

"If you're up to something, you may as well tell me now."

The sentence took her by surprise. "I- What do you mean?"

"There must be some reason why you're here," he said. "It's not everyday that a human randomly appears on Terok Nor. We're in the middle of a war."

"And an occupation," she added harshly.

"Quite." He took another swig of the kanar. "So, what is it that you want?"

Corina narrowed her eyes. "I'm not a spy, if that's what you mean."

"You've certainly got a lot of tools at your disposal," he muttered.

She scoffed, glared at him, folded her arms. "Damar, I don't want this any more than you do."

"Gul Dukat is a great man, and you're intent on playing him for a fool," Damar, nonetheless, carried on. "And yet your plan has backfired, hasn't it? So much for getting into his ear and persuading him that the Bajorans are being treated cruelly, or that we may as well surrender to the Federation."

She groaned. "The war is falling in the Federation's favour; it always has been. And the Bajorans __are__ being treated cruelly," she said urgently. "Are you blind?"

"It's the natural order of things," he said simply, and the bluntness with which he had said it infuriated her.

"Oh, Christ! You're insufferable." She made for the door but span around and her gaze caught on his smug face once more. "You know, we could try to get along, considering the fact that we're going to be spending a lot more time together. But I guess that was never going to happen."

She left.


	9. Chapter 9

As had been expected, the atmosphere in Gul Dukat's office the following day was bitter. The Prefect could do little but watch absently as his second-in-command and the mysterious woman glared at each other. Soon, Dukat decided that he'd had enough. He groaned, rubbed his forehead.

“What exactly is going on between the two of you?” he finally asked.

Corina ignored the exasperation in his voice. “What do you think is going on? You're packing me off on some random transport with him!” 

Damar cleared his throat. “It might surprise you, Sir, but I agree with her. This… whatever it is… won't be very successful.” 

Gul Dukat raised an unimpressed eyeridge. “Oh, because you're going to be arguing all of the time?” He let out a hollow laugh. “Damar, you're a soldier. Stop acting like a child.” He then cast his gaze over at Corina, who made it her duty not to flinch. “And what more do you want from me? I've already done more than I should've done.” 

She scoffed. “Really?” She sighed. “I just want my brother back, Dukat. And surely Damar can be of more use to you here than he can be to me on Magnus IV?” 

Damar looked slightly offended, and she could do little but offer him a sheepish glance. 

But Dukat only shook his head. “Corina, answer me this: how long do you think you'll last on Magnus IV?” 

She tried not to stammer as she replied. “I-- I'm stronger than you think, Dukat. I can look after myself.” 

“I believe that,” he said honestly. “But the Orions are ruthless.” He smiled. “And that's coming from me.” 

Damar grunted. “Sir, I really think you should let her go alone. I've got some reports to do and--” 

“Damar, since when did you prefer paperwork to battle?” Dukat said with a laugh. 

The glinn harrumphed and said no more. 

“I've said my piece,” Dukat continued. “And I've made my decision. The two of you can head down to landing pad six. I'll be down there shortly.” 

And so, grudgingly, Damar and Corina pushed back their chairs and dragged themselves to the landing bay. At least the journey gave her time to think. She caught the eyes of the shapeshifter and the Ferengi when going through the Promenade. 

“Why don't you want to come with me?” Corina asked, keen to fill the silence that enveloped them as they waited in the corridor. 

He considered awhile, pursing his lips, looking away. Then he cleared his throat. “Your bag looks heavy. Do you want me to take it?” 

She glared at him and simply adjusted her hold on the bag. “No, I want you to answer my question.” 

“Because Dukat needs me here, and I want to be here,” he began. “I shouldn't have to follow you like some sort of Andorian lapdog just because Dukat's taken a liking to you.” 

At least he put it politely, she thought. “You're your own man. Tell him you don't want to go.” 

Damar straightened his cuirass, looked through the window in the door which led to the landing pad, as if willing it to open. “He's my commanding officer. I realise Starfleet officers might not hold their superiors with much respect but--” 

“Don't even say it,” she said with a glower. 

The silence was not broken until Dukat swaggered around the corner. He was accompanied by another Cardassian, a rather tough looking one with a disrupter rifle held in his hands. Corina presumed that he was some sort of a bodyguard; Dukat certainly needed one. 

“The ship will be here in two minutes, so you shouldn't be waiting for too long,” he said smoothly. 

Sure enough, when those two minutes were up, the door rolled open and Dukat held out his hand. In it was a padd, and Corina took it gingerly. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

“It's got the coordinates of Magnus IV, as well as the best route to travel. The Orions might be ruthless but they're arrogant. They think they're better than they really are.” He grinned. “And they're not particularly observant.” 

“I guess this is goodbye then,” Corina said, and for a reason which she couldn't name, she felt a twinge of sadness. Only it wasn't sadness. She thought perhaps that it was regret. She hated where she was and what was around her, but she was grateful to Dukat for what he had done. 

The corners of Dukat's mouth curved upwards in a sly smile. “What makes you think it's goodbye?” 

Corina gave him a small smile, a thankful smile, and then she stepped into the waiting craft. It was smaller than she had been expecting, and was painted a colour somewhere in between beige and grey. The bow was slightly wider than the stern, and it almost resembled a mechanical cobra. She saw three seats – two at the front and one at the back. 

She sat herself down and put her bag in a storage locker towards the back of the craft. She sighed when she saw the craft's interior. Naretok-class ships, and Cardassian ships on the whole, were not known for their power, design or stealth, and Corina completely understood why. 

Through the window, she could see Damar and Dukat engaged in a heated exchange, and she didn't have to think long to realise what it was about.

Eventually, she saw that Damar had acquiesced, as he always did when talking to his commanding officer. He then saluted Dukat, who set a hand on his shoulder, and then Damar had sat down beside her, a look of irritation already etched into his face. 

A series of lights lit up above the opening, and Damar looked at her. 

“If you're quite happy to watch, I'll start the departure procedure,” he said gruffly. 

“I never did learn to fly a spaceship,” she said, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “But you could teach me if you want.” 

He started the ignition sequences, and the craft's tiny impulse engines activated. Then the opening above the landing pad slid across to reveal the starry sky beyond, and the craft lifted upwards, out of the confines of Terok Nor, and into the vast expanse of space. 

If she could've done so, Corina would have tried to some sleep. But she knew it would be a pointless effort, and she disliked the idea of having Damar awake next to her. It wasn't that she didn't trust him; it just made her feel uncomfortable. She had been drumming her fingers idly on the console when she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that Damar was watching her. She wasn't sure how long he'd been watching her for, but it still piqued her interest. 

She turned to face him. “What is it?” 

His expression instantly became stony and he turned back to face the windscreen. “Nothing.” 

“It's something,” she said pointedly. 

“Dukat said you were attacked on the Promenade a few days ago,” he said bluntly, as if it was an effort to talk. 

She raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn't use that word.” 

“He also said that he came to your rescue.” 

Her red lips curves upwards in a smile, which then turned into a laugh. “He didn't rescue me. Odo did. And I'm not really sure I needed rescuing.” There was a pause. “Why did you bring that up? Are you jealous?” 

He grunted. “Of Dukat? Certainly not.” But there was a tightness in his voice which told her otherwise. 

“It was something and nothing, really,” she said simply, spreading her hands on the console, then catching his eye. “I'd gotten some food from the Ferengi, and I gave it to some Bajorans.” 

Damar snorted, stared at her incredulously. “You gave food to the Bajorans?” 

She glowered at him. “They're not animals, Damar. They're people. And they were children. Are you seriously that deluded? That heartless?” 

He took his time preparing a response. His fingers absently wandered to the console and he tapped randomly at a few things. Then he sighed. “A sense of hierarchy needs to be maintained on Terok Nor,” he said. “Surely Dukat told you that? And besides, it's common sense.” 

She scoffed. “Enslaving another species is not common sense.” 

He waved a hand, shook his head. “Sometimes Dukat can be blinded by his heart, and it's imperative you know that.” 

“Can't every man?” she asked, her deep blue eyes challenging him to say otherwise. 

But he simply straightened his uniform and cleared his throat. “I can't.” 

Silence washed over them, encompassing the small Cardassian ship. The stars streaked by as the craft struggled to maintain warp factor two. 

“How long will it take?” Corina asked after a time. 

“About a day, maybe more,” was Damar's gruff response. He caught her eye in the reflection of the main window. “You could get some sleep.” 

As she had done previously, she did consider it, and she wondered if she could detect the tiniest amount of concern in Damar's face and voice. They had been on the craft for nearly a day already; it seemed twice as long because all around them the sky was eternal night. 

“Are you sure?” 

He nodded curtly and leant back in his chair. “The sleeping quarters are through that door,” he said, pointedly. “There's only one bunk, so you can have it.” 

She gave him a grateful look, one that almost included a smile, and he watched as she left the cockpit. 

When she was alone in the room, which was small and cramped and rather cubicle-like, she locked the door as best she could. There was no sonic shower, so she did what she could with the basin, and then she changed and tried to get some rest. 

**** 

But she wasn't resting for long. She had barely started to drift off to sleep when something rocked the ship. She was nearly thrown out of the bunk, and she had to cling onto the frame for support. Just as she got to her feet, the craft shook again, and she lurched out of the room and into the cockpit. As the ship rocked from side to side, she clambered into her seat and looked urgently at Damar. 

“What is it? What's going on?” 

“We've hit a minefield.” 

His response was so vague that it angered her. “What the hell does that mean?” 

“I'm pretty sure it's Klingon,” he said tightly. “The Union isn't on great terms with the Empire and somehow they must've gotten wind of our route.” Annoyed, he slammed a hand onto the console when it didn't cooperate with him. 

Her eyes widened as the peril of their situation hit home. “So they've put out these mines?” 

He nodded ruefully. “And the mines are cloaked.” His hands glided over the control console frantically as he attempted to steady the craft; the ship was old and slow and had very little in the way of an autopilot. 

Corina let out a quiet squeal when she looked at the flashing lights displayed in front of her. There were all sorts of warnings, pertaining to fuel containment, impulse drive integrity and shield strength. 

Then she caught Damar's gaze furiously. “Is there anything I can do?” 

He didn't even argue with her. “Keep your hands on here,” he said quickly, and she placed her hands gingerly on the console. “Hold down those buttons with your right hand, and pull the lever down with your left hand.” 

The label above the controls which she was managing was in Cardassian script, but she soon gathered that it was something to do with the steering.  
Damar, meanwhile, was attempting to reroute the guidance system. “This means we can't go the way Dukat wanted us to go. It'll take us at least a week, and that's using the second-best route.” 

She would've groaned, complained, but she could do little but admire Damar for his skills and bravery. 

“It looks like we're past the minefield,” she said, her voice lifting. 

“But we've got a lot of damage,” he muttered, looking despondently at the screens. “Shields are at sixty percent. We've only got impulse drive, not warp. And the hull integrity's so bad that the ship will explode after just one phaser hit.” 

Corina brought a cold hand to her face and rubbed her temple. She blinked, took a breath. “At least we're through that.” A gentle smile crossed her lips. “You'll have to have a word with Dukat when you return. He didn't say anything about expecting a Klingon minefield.” 

He returned her smile, his light eyes almost sparkling. “I trust you didn't sleep well?” 

“Not particularly.” 


	10. Chapter 10

Beyond the tiny shuttlecraft, there was only space, only a black void dotted with billions upon billions of specks of light. Corina wondered which star was the Sun, which one had a planet called Earth orbiting it, which planet was her home. But there were so many of them, and they all looked the same. She looked over to the side, and she saw that Damar was rubbing his eyes. “You're tired,” she said bluntly, throwing him a pointed look.

Instantly, he sat up straighter, wiped his eyes and sniffed. “No, I'm not.”

“You've been flying this thing for two days,” she said shortly. “Of course you're tired.” 

“The Cardassian body is much more resilient than the human one,” was his simple response. 

She didn't even scoff. “It's just a shame that the same can't be said for the Cardassian brain.” 

He snorted, went back to monitoring the instruments, whether they needed constant vigilance or not. And then he yawned, and he noticed her smug expression. He looked like he was about to listen to her, to get up, but he didn't. He stayed put. 

“Damar,” she said, and her voice was firm. “You'll be no use to any one if you're half asleep.” 

The glinn grunted. “Who put you in charge?” 

“I never said I was in charge,” she said quickly, swiftly. “Look. I'll be fine if you want to get some shuteye for a couple of hours.” 

But he still seemed unsure. “You can't fly this ship. I can't leave you alone at the controls.” 

A wicked smile played on her lips. “Maybe I'll change the course and take us to Federation space.” 

At last, he stood up with a grumble, and dragged himself to the sleeping quarters. Corina looked down at the myriad of gauges and displays and screens on the console in front of her. Some of them were flashing, some of them were on, some of them were off. She couldn't read the Cardassian script, of course, but the majority of the symbols were quite self-explanatory, and Damar had given her some rather useful pointers. 

The diagram which showed their projected route was the most interesting, she found. Every hour or so, the line connecting the ship to Magnus IV would get shorter, and Corina knew that meant she was getting closer to her brother, closer to the truth. She turned to the replicator and got a raktajino, simply as something to pass the time. Then she returned to her seat, leant back, sipped at the coffee, and gazed at the encompassing night. 

She was stolen from her reverie by the loud groans of Damar as he emerged from the sleeping quarters. He rubbed the nape of neck, yawned, stretched. Then he smacked his lips and sat back in his chair. 

She glanced at the chronometer, then caught his eye. “One hour. That was hardly worth it.” 

He simply shrugged, began tapping on the various screens and turning the dials. “All's well, I take it?” 

She nodded, smiled wryly. “It's not actually as hard flying one of these as you made out.” 

He snorted. “You won't be saying that when we're being shot at.” 

“Maybe not.” She paused, drank the rest of her raktajino. “Damar. Can I ask you something?” 

His blue gaze met hers. “If you must.” 

“You don't like me, do you?” she asked, ignoring his rudeness. 

Damar pursed his lips. “What makes you say that?” 

“Well, for starters, you went out of your way to try and persuade Dukat to change his mind.” 

“I suppose I did, didn't I?” he said absently. “What I don't like is the prospect of Gul Dukat being made a fool of.” 

“I'm not making a fool of him,” she said, her voice tight. “All I know is that he offered me help when no one else did.” 

The soldier cocked an eyeridge, regarded her curiously. 

“I don't know how I ended up on Terok Nor. I was dragged into this dark, dingy room, and there was this Cardassian there – Gul Telok.” She lowered her lashes, her voice. “He interrogated me and stripped me of my clothes, and… I managed to get out. Dukat took me to one side, and he said he'd help me.” 

Damar's hand sought his chin; he rubbed it thoughtfully. 

“That's all there is to it,” she continued, holding him steadfast in her gaze. “I'm not a spy. I'm not a soldier.” She snorted. “And I'm certainly not anyone's comfort woman.” 

A smile curved on his lips. “I believe you.” 

She wasn't quite sure what to think of that, though she did want his trust. 

“At least we haven't seen hide nor hair of a minefield,” she said, smiling. 

He nodded. “That's something, I suppose.” 

“How long 'til we get to Magnus IV?” 

He looked down at the instruments. “Four days.” 

“I'm going get something to eat,” she said with a sigh, standing up and going over to the replicator. “Can you recommend any Cardassian dishes?” 

He smiled briefly, though she couldn't see. “I was going to suggest taspar eggs, but...” 

She frowned. “What's wrong with taspar eggs?” 

Damar let loose a short laugh. “They're, uh, eaten raw.” 

At that, she grimaced. “Anything else?” 

“You humans aren't very adventurous,” he murmured. 

Mischief glinted in her eye, and she approached his chair from behind, bending over so that she could speak into his ear. “Oh, we're adventurous,” she said softly. “Just not when it comes to eating raw eggs.” 

She was so close to him. He could feel her warm breath against his skin. If he'd turned his head at that moment, their faces would've touched. He cleared his throat. “Try the sem'hal stew. It's just vegetables. If you can cope with that, of course.” 

She drew away from him, and ordered two bowls of the stew. 

“What do you think?” he enquired, seeing that she had taken her first mouthful, after a minute or so of prodding it about. 

“It's, uh, interesting,” she finally said. “Different.” 

A smirk appeared on his lips, and in no time at all, he had scraped his bowl clean. 

“But, after a while, you get used to the smell, I suppose,” she said. “And it doesn't actually taste all that bad.” 

He reached over and retrieved her bowl, stacked it with his, then placed them in the replicator and they soon shimmered into nonexistence. 

Corina wasn't sure if it was the warmth of the stew, but the air in the craft seemed to be getting thicker, hotter. She sighed, shrugged off her coat. 

“Is it just me or is it getting hotter in here?” 

Damar frowned, raised an eyeridge. Cardassians liked the heat, but the temperature was rising too quickly even for his liking. “Oh, shit.” 

Her eyes widened, her lips parted. “What? What is it?” 

His fingers began dancing frantically on the console as he pulled up diagrams and pages. “It looks like we've got a leak in the warp reactor.” 

Her heart began to thump in her chest, her breathing became heavy. “The minefield...” she began. 

“There's reactor coolant seeping into the ship's vital functions,” Damar explained. “That's why it's so hot in here.” 

“This ship's going to explode.” 

He nodded, his hands still skating over the console. “We need to set her down.” 

“We can't,” she said hurriedly, quickly, without thinking. “We've still got days left to travel.” 

He shot her an angry look. “We need to land. If we don't, we're dead.” 

Space seemed more expansive, more threatening, than it ever had done. 

“It looks like there's a planet point one of a parsec from our current position – Pirithous Prime, it's called,” he said. “We'll head that way.” 

“Surely it's too dangerous to continue at war?” she asked, trying to understand.

Without looking at her, he shook his head, his intent gaze on the instruments as they blared out warnings and orders. “Not if we keep the same speed,” was his serious response. 

And so, with lights flashing everywhere, with alarms sounding, Damar set the course for Pirithous Prime. The craft began to shake, to shudder, as if it were protesting, as if it were in pain. The temperature in the cockpit kept rising, and Corina felt the beads of sweat form on her forehead and then drip down past her nose and chin. Even Damar looked flustered. 

Then a small sphere appeared in the distance, and the stars ceased to be long white streaks, as the ship broke out of warp. The small orb grew larger and larger, and Corina realised what it was; a planet. And the planet was getting closer and closer, until it took up the entire viewscreen. She could see the orange of desert, the blue of oceans, the grey of civilisation. And then everything went black. 

“Guidance system's down,” Damar said urgently, his eyes frantically darting back and forth as he tried to make sense of the array of warnings and alarms. “So are the shields. And we've got no impulse power.” 

She leant forward, struggling to hear him over the screech of the wounded shuttle's engines and the blaring of the computer's voice. “Oh God,” she muttered, her eyes wide with fear. “We're in a glider.” 

Damar shook his head ruefully, desperate not to resign just yet. “We've still got life support,” he said slowly. “If I reroute the energy supply for the life support system into the impulse drive, we should, at least, get a soft landing.” 

She turned her head, caught his eye pointedly. “What have we got to lose? I know you can do it.” 

That tiny bit of praise from her persuaded him. He cracked his knuckles, took a deep breath, then typed in some frantic commands. He set his hands on the throttle, pushing it forward ever so gently. The craft's engines whirred and choked, but soon the sound – and the ride – became smoother. 

A red glare appeared around the outside of the shuttle, enveloping its hull, as they hit re-entry. The planet's atmosphere grabbed them hungrily, and its gravity began to pull them down into oblivion. 

Corina bent her head down, attempting to adopt a brace position, and Damar followed suit. Then there was a deafening whine as the craft's engines reached overload, and all of the instruments short-circuited. She cried out as her head came slamming down onto the console, and the shuttle collided with the rust-coloured earth of one of Pirithous Prime's deserts; it skidded for miles, before eventually coming to a halt. 

For a long time, Damar could hear nothing but a faint ringing in his ears and he could see nothing but dust. He was also aware of the heat, the overbearing, all-enveloping heat. He forced his eyes open, and he hauled himself out of his seat. Smoke was rising slowly from the console, just above the shuttle's engines. Glancing over to the side, he saw that Corina's seat had become detached from the floor; it had fallen over, trapping its occupant between it and the floor like some sort of cocoon. 

He hunkered down, taking a firm hold on the seat. Holding his breath, he picked the seat up and pushed it over. He winced as a sharp pain shot up his arm, but he but his tongue, and caught sight of Corina. 

She was motionless, serene, beautiful. Her eyes were shut, her lips parted ever so slightly, and her hair was cascading down her shoulders. Relief settled in his stomach when he saw her chest rise and fall, when he heard her whimper. 

“Corina,” he said softly, lifting her head up. 

A small smile broke out on her lips, and she opened her eyes. “I take it we crashed?” 

He nearly laughed. “Are you hurt?” 

She frowned, unsure, but, with his help, she managed to heave herself into an upright position. She pressed a hand to her forehead, felt a trickle of blood wind its way down her cheek. “I-- I don't think so. My head hurts.” 

Damar held out his hand, and she took it without hesitation, and the two of them stood in the smouldering wreckage of the craft. 

 

“And you?” she asked as they made for the shuttle's door; the frame was slightly bent out of shape and so the door took some forcing. 

They stepped into daylight, into sunlight. The air was thick and humid, and the sun was beating down mercilessly on their backs. They looked back and saw the sorry shuttle; one of its engines had fallen off, there was smoke rising steadily from the hull, and it had dug a hole half a dozen feet deep into the sandy ground. 

“Damar,” she said, rather forcefully, catching his eye purposefully, and she noticed a streak of mud across his cheek. 

“What?” He had apparently become aware of the mud, and he wiped it away gracelessly. 

“You're not hurt, are you?” she repeated; she felt her forehead and found no more blood, and she sighed with relief. 

He snorted. “No, I'm fine.” He pursed his lips, then lurched back into the shuttlecraft, returning seconds later with a small bag. “Emergency ration pack,” he said with a half-hearted gesture. 

She took it from him, perused it, finding a small cask of water, some bandages and a collection of tablets. He reached out to take the bag back from her, but the pain in his arm returned, and he was forced to resign his effort. He grumbled, upon noticing her curious look. 

“Damar. Let me look at your arm.” 

He turned away, sat down. “It's fine. Stop worrying.” 

“It's not fine,” she countered. “I'm not a doctor, I know. But I can see you're in pain.” 

“Is there anything wrong with a Cardassian in pain?” he retorted, but he hadn't meant it, and she knew it. 

She threw him an exasperated look, and he eventually waved her over. She placed a hand on his elbow, delicately so, and looked him in the eye. 

“Does it hurt it I press it here?” she asked, to which he shook his head. 

“How about here?” she then asked, moving her hand up to put pressure on his upper arm. 

“No.” 

Biting her lip, she slid her hand further up, where it came to rest on his shoulder, and he grunted. 

“I think you might've dislocated your shoulder,” she said, not sounding entirely sure. She ran her fingers along his shoulder again, and came to the conclusion that something definitely wasn't right. “But I don't know if that's normal for Cardassians,” she murmured, sighing. Then she felt his other shoulder; they didn't feel the same. 

“If I'm honest,” he began. “I'd rather not have you attempt to cure it.” 

She gave him a wry smile. “Well, you can't leave it like that.” Then she nodded. “I'll have to take this off,” she said, gesturing to his uniform top. 

He would've laughed. “I hadn't expected it to happen like this,” he said slyly, but his humour was cut short by her withering gaze. “Honestly, it's fine. Cardassians are not as susceptible to pain as humans are.” 

She snorted. “No, of course not. Now, I need to take this off. I can't feel much through all of that armour.” 

Damar pursed his lips, looked away. “If you must.” 

Trying not to smile, Corina reached round the back of his neck and unclasped the heavy chest plate, placing it on the dusty ground around them. A frown crossed her face. “How much armour do you actually wear?” 

He grinned. “Too much.” 

Then she helped him to take off the padded sleeve on his injured arm, He set about removing the undershirt, but she held up a hand, a wry smile on her lips. 

“That's probably fine,” she said. “I've done this before, you know. Well, on a dummy. Years ago.” 

He harrumphed, made a face. 

“But I'm sure I still remember it,” she said quickly, trying not to let her nerves show through in her voice and face. She had him straighten his arm out, and then she placed one hand on his elbow, the other just below his shoulder. “You might want to close your eyes,” she whispered, as she pulled his arm back then shoved it harshly forward. There was a crack, a pop, and Damar nearly bit his tongue. 

He reeled back, clutching his shoulder, then the pain dissipated, and he grinned. 

Satisfied – and surprised – with her handiwork, she drew out the roll of bandage and began wrapping it around his arm, despite his protests. 

“Thanks,” he murmured, replacing his uniform, trying not to catch her gaze as her fingertips brushed the delicate ridges along his neck. 

“Don't mention it.” She helped him to his feet

He found himself looking at her, at her blue eyes, at her porcelain face, at her red lips. And then his gaze fell to his chest, and he forced himself to avert his eyes. 

She cleared her throat, attempting to end the uncomfortable silence. In the distance, she could see a myriad of artificial lights; a city, a town, civilisation. And either side of those lights, were two mountain ranges, with peaks dusted with snow and rocky outcrops. But for at least a dozen miles, it was just desert. 

“Do you have any idea where we are?” 

His eyeridges drew together. “No.” Then, without thinking, he reached up and drew a stray strand of brunette hair away from her face. She started, but soon relaxed. 

“I'll go and see if I can find a padd in the shuttle,” she said quickly, disappearing into the wreckage. She emerged beaming, the device in her hand. “It's the one Dukat gave us. The damage doesn't look too bad.” She handed it to him. 

“I don't think it'll be much use,” he said, pursing his lips. “The sensors have gone haywire. All we can tell is that we're on Pirithous Prime.” 

She sighed. “But there's a city or something over there,” she said, desperately wanting it to be true and not some trauma-induced mirage, as she pointed to the horizon and the mountain ranges. “We should head that way.” 

“I don't think we've got any other option.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

The sandy ground was soft and it often gave way underfoot. Every now and then, an imperceptible movement would catch their eye, and they would see a tiny lizard break out of some den and scurry across the plain. 

Corina reached up, wiped away the beads of sweat on her forehead. “Is it this hot on Cardassia?” 

Damar threw her a grin. “Usually. Sometimes it's hotter.” 

She groaned, sighed, and the horizon got further with every step. 

“Do you want some water?” he asked, and she heard concern in his voice. 

“No, we ought to save it,” she said softly, despite herself. 

But he shook his head. “I don't really need it.” He reached delved into the bag and handed her the water. Gingerly, she took it, opening it and holding it to her lips. She took a few sips, relished them, savoured them, then thrust the bottle back into his hands. 

She glanced down at her clothes. She was wearing a long white dress, though the colour had faded and mud was splattered on the hem. It fell down nearly to her ankles, and every time they stepped over a ditch or a rock, she would trip. 

“That does it,” she muttered, her tone bitter. She bent down and tore as straight a line she could up from the bottom of the dress; then she ripped it across, so that the hemline fell just above her knees. She grinned, and he looked at her. 

“You won't be falling over any more, I take it?” he asked, his eyes shyly tracing her body. 

She shook her head, harrumphed. “We'll see.” 

“At least it's getting cooler,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. 

His effort didn't much work. “So we're one day closer to my trial,” she murmured, looking away. She stopped in her tracks, no longer caring that the sand was burning the soles of her feet through her shoes, as dreadful realisation dawned on her. 

“You're worrying about it?” 

She glowered at him. “Of course I'm worrying about it. It's in two weeks' time!” 

“If it goes ahead at all,” he said smoothly. 

Corina sighed, pressed a hand to her forehead. “I'm not stupid, Damar. I know what a ridiculous legal system Cardassia has!” 

He pursed his lips, frowned. “You're stupid for believing that you'll be tried in the first place.” 

She stared at him, narrowed her eyes. 

“Gul Telok's got no real case against you, has he? Your brother killed his son in war.” 

“Yes, but Setlik III was a Federation military outpost, wasn't it? But it was in Cardassian space. And my brother was a soldier. He ambushed Telok's son and shot him dead.” 

“Is that what Dukat told you?” he asked slowly, carefully. 

She nodded, confused by his question. “Yeah, why?” 

Damar was silent for a moment, and only the gentle howling of the wind could be heard. “Setlik III...” he began, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “It wasn't a Federation military outpost 

“What was it?” 

“It was a Federation research station. Cardassian – well, our – troops went in and engaged the humans,” he finished. 

For a long while, she simply stared at him. Her lips parted, she let out a wordless cry. Then anger rose up inside of her, and she rounded on him. “Why?” she demanded. “Why would you do that?” 

“I didn't do anything,” he said swiftly, and she knew he was telling the truth. 

“Then who did?” 

He opened his mouth but no words came out, and he faltered. 

“Who, Damar?” 

“It was Gul Dukat,” he said absently. “He gave the order.” 

“He told his men that it was a military base?” she inquired, knitting her brow. “And they went in and slaughtered innocent people!” She shook her head, nearly lost her footing. “No, no, that can't be.” She paused, her lower lip wavered. “It was Berak -- Telok's son -- who was in the wrong. Not my brother. Not Charlton.” 

Hesitantly, Damar stepped forward, the sand shifting under his boots. “It's getting late. We ought to get some rest.” 

“I don't think I could sleep even if I tried,” she murmured. 

He sighed. “There's a cave over there,” he said, pointing to a small alcove in a cliff-face. It didn't offer much protection from the elements and it didn't extend back very far, but it was at least in the shade. Though nightfall was approaching, the sun's blazing glare was still very strong. 

Corina followed Damar into the cave, and she fell to her knees, leaning against a smooth rock. He sat opposite her, watching her closely, curiously, concern etched into his face. 

“I'm sure Dukat had a good reason for doing what he did,” he finally said. 

She scoffed. “Tell me Damar, what exactly is a good reason for ordering the execution of hundreds of civilians?” 

“Dukat did not order anyone's execution,” he said swiftly. “He must've thought it was a Federation military base. Our people are at war, Corina. Dukat is a respected, intelligent man, and an excellent soldier and leader. He would've done what he did to protect Cardassia.” 

Then, despite herself, despite everything, a tiny smile formed on her lips. The cave was small, and they were sat reasonably close together, but she found that she didn't feel uncomfortable, or angered, or threatened. He was watching her with eyes that she might have labelled as kind, and his handsome face wore a thoughtful expression. 

“What's funny?” he asked, looking slightly indignant. 

“I never thought I'd be spending the night in cave with a Cardassian,” she said, her wry smile growing broader. 

He caught her eye, returned the smile. “And I never thought I'd be in a cave with a human.” 

“I suppose we ought to try and get some sleep, seeing as we're on a schedule,” she said ruefully, shifting into a more comfortable position. She tried using a rock as a pillow, and, noticing her discomfort, Damar handed her the emergency ration pack, which she rested her head against. 

Outside the safety of the cave, the star's rays were at last showing signs of weakening, and the howling of the wind lessened. Damar leant against one of the walls, harrumphing as he tried to get comfortable. He looked down at his bandaged arm, and then he looked at Corina, at her serene face and her rhythmic breathing. 

“I've only ever admired Dukat. I've never envied him,” he said abruptly, quietly. 

She opened her eyes. “What?” 

“Until now,” he repeated, his voice tight, his eyes lidded. 

“What are you talking about?” 

His hand sought the back of his neck. “I respect him, I trust him. But I've never envied him.” 

“Oh, I see,” she whispered to herself. “But I don't get what you're talking about.” 

He furrowed his brow. “Dukat and yourself--” he began, but she cut him off with a glower. 

“I don't know what you think went on between the two of us, but it wasn't that.” 

“It wasn't?” 

“No,” she said emphatically, deliberately catching his eye. “Is that seriously what you've been thinking about?” 

He faltered. “No, I--” 

“Goodnight, Damar,” she said firmly, closing her eyes and turning away.   
****   
The night was cooler than the day, but only marginally so. Corina had tossed and turned but soon settled down and was in a deep slumber; she did not know it, but Damar hadn't slept at all. He had sat there, pensively, watchfully, throughout the night. 

She wasn't woken by the blazing heat of the early morning sun, or by the chattering of native animals, but by the cold hand clamped around her mouth.

Her eyes widened and her breathing grew frantic, and she spun around. 

Damar was regarding her with serious eyes, his brow knitted, and he drew his hand back. 

She stared at him wildly. “What the hell do you think you're doing?” she demanded, her breath running away from her. 

But he only looked at her sternly. “Keep your voice down,” he said, sounding deathly sincere. 

“What for?” 

He inclined his head towards the entrance to their cave, and a few hundred feet away, trekking across the hot desert, she saw it – a dozen-strong cavalcade of people. 

She blinked, furrowed her brow. “Who are they?” She hadn't realised it, but in her curiosity, she had started to lean out of the cave. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back in, his blue eyes hanging on hers. 

“I don't know,” he admitted. “But they're heading in the direction of that city.” 

Corina looked at the horizon, then back at the procession of people. “Wait… some of them are shackled.” She slapped a hand to her mouth. “There are Orions there.” 

He grunted. “We're close to Magnus IV, so this must be another one of the Syndicate's market planets.” 

“But if I went over and talked to them, maybe I could ask them if they'd seen my brother.” 

A grim smile formed on his lips. “You can't negotiate with the Orion Syndicate,” he said, nearly sneering. “They'd cage you up as soon as talk to you.” 

“Then we'll have to go to the city,” she said, ignoring his sarcasm. 

“If you want to get killed,” was his blunt response. 

“You know, I'm really starting to regret fixing your arm.” 

“You didn't really fix it. It still hurts.” 

“I thought Cardassians were impervious to pain.” 

Realising that he was defeated, he only sighed. The both of them sat in a sour silence for the best part of an hour. And then Damar slapped his thighs, clambered to his feet and looked to the distant city in between the mountains. 

“We ought to get moving. The city's at least another day away. And it's best if we move while the daylight's weak.” 

Absently, she nodded. When she looked up, she saw his hand outstretched and a solemn expression on his face. She took his hand and he helped her up, and then they tentatively stepped out of the cave. 

“I was quite enjoying it in there,” she murmured, wondering if humour would lift their spirits. 

A brief smile touched his lips. “I'm sure there are plenty of caves. If we make good time today, we can get lodgings in the city.” 

She hesitated, threw him an unsure look. “I don't think I'd fancy staying there.” 

“It's either that or sleep on the street.” 

“You're right,” she said glumly, as they began to trudge on. 

The sand, though not as hot as it was yesterday, sunk underneath their feet, as if they were walking in quicksand; the red dwarf star's beams were getting stronger by the minute; and Damar kept yawning. 

She cast him a curious expression. “Didn't you sleep in the cave?” 

He shook his head. “No, I thought it best if I kept watch.” 

She snorted. “What were you watching?” 

The glinn nearly faltered. “The desert, mostly,” he said swiftly. “A few snakes came in, not to mention the spiders.” Then his face changed, grew darker and quite concerned, and she frowned at him. 

“What is it?” 

“There's something on your back.”

Her eyes widened in terror, in disgust. As visions of hungry arachnids and man-eating insects gathered in her mind, she danced about frantically, attempting to remove whatever it was. But nothing came. Except the realisation that she had been played. She marched over to him, pointed a finger to his chestplate. 

“You bastard.” 

He only raised his hands and chuckled slyly. “I just wanted to see what you'd do.” 

“I can see why you're still only a glinn,” she said, a vengeful smile on her lips. 

He snorted. “I can see why you're not a doctor.” 

With that, she dropped the emergency rations pack, and it hit the sand silently. The wind caught in her hair and anger caught in her mind. In an instant, she'd raised a hand, ready to slap him across his smug face, but he caught her wrist. 

Still holding her, he smiled, and she wasn't sure if it comforted or unnerved her. His eyes traced the outline of her face – her flushed cheeks, her pink lips, her fierce gaze – and he couldn't ignore her beauty. 

She, too, watched him, scrutinised him. Then a breeze howled in the air, and she stepped back. “Damar, what are you doing?” 

Blinking, he shook his head. “Ah – nothing. We should get going.” 

Corina nodded after a while, picked up the emergency rations pack, and then the two of them continued on their walk. 

“I'm sorry for not waking you earlier,” he eventually said, his gaze not on her but on the sandy path in front of them. 

She knitted her brow. “I shouldn't have been so jumpy,” she said, with an honest sigh. “It's just, well, after what happened with Dalin Metek, I--” 

“You don't trust Cardassians.” 

She pursed her lips, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I thought I trusted Dukat, but now, I'm not so sure.” 

“We're the same as any other race,” he said. “The same as humans, Vulcans. Klingons, maybe not.” He grinned, and she did, too. “Some of us are good, some of us are bad. I couldn't name one species of whom all the members could be trusted implicitly.” 

She shrugged. “I guess.” 

“And I'm sure the Federation has been feeding you horror stories of the Occupation.” 

That last statement had caught her off-guard; she hadn't expected him to bring it up so willingly. “It's not been mentioned that much, really. Bajor is in Cardassian space… apparently. So the Federation has no control over what happens there, surely?” 

Damar looked indifferent. “The Occupation is… unfortunate. It started before I was even born, and I doubt it was ever intended to happen.” 

She cut him off with a glower. “That doesn't make it all right.” 

“Maybe not,” he said, with a simple wave. “But it doesn't define Cardassians as a species.” He paused. “It doesn't define me.” 

After he said that, she caught his eye, purposefully, pointedly. Then she pulled out the padd that Dukat had given her. “I've been looking at this and I think it's got some sort of guidance system built into it. We should be able to see how far we are from the city.” She fiddled with it, keyed in some commands, but it didn't do what she wanted, and so she passed it to Damar. 

“Ah,” he said, pressing a few buttons and reading what was on the screen. “It says we're ten miles from the city.” 

A smile broke out on her face. “We can manage that today.” 

“That may be so,” he began, his tone rather sombre. “But, looking at this, it might be better if we don't take the direct route.” 

“What?” 

“There are all sorts of security check points at the main gates of the city,” he explained, showing her the padd display. 

“Surely we can get in?” 

“How?” 

“I don't know.” She sighed. “Which way are we going, then?” 

“Over the mountains.” 

For a while, she could do nothing but stare at him incredulously. But then she squinted, and in the sunlight, she could see the two mountains. One of them was so high that its peak was obscured by wispy clouds, but the other was much shorter. It was grey, imposing, jagged, and Corina couldn't help but be reminded of Cardassian architecture. 

Then she took a deep breath and put her hands on her hips. “Well, if Hannibal can do it, so can we,” she whispered ruefully. 


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: hope everyone's enjoying it so far; thank you so much for reading!**

 

The mountain was at least a thousand metres high, high enough that its peak was blanketed in snowy white clouds. They were about halfway to the summit when the tiredness really started to kick in; each step became trying, each breath became painful, and each look down at the ground seemed to be from no further up than the last.

The ground was, at least, tough and firm, unlike the sinking texture of the sand, which constantly gave way underfoot.

Corina groaned, caught Damar's eye. “Are you sure this was the smallest mountain?”

He gave her a grim smile. “I'm not so sure now,” he muttered.

She squinted in the low sun, casting her gaze down at the desert below. “We must be hundreds of metres up.”

“At least we don't have to climb up all the way.” He stopped, took a breath.

She frowned, but then followed his eyeline. “It looks like some sort of passageway,” she said, tentatively stepping over to a rift in the mountain's face. “We could cut through there, couldn't we?”

He grinned. “You don't look like a Cardassian but you certainly think like one.”

She nearly scowled, unsure whether or not that was a compliment, but she found herself smiling back. Then she came to the entrance of the hidden passage, only to turn around when she heard a noise.

Damar was standing, hunched over, clutching his shoulder. It was clear that he was holding back yet another sound of pain. Seeing her look concerned, he simply waved a dismissive hand. “It's fine,” he breathed. “You keep going.”

But she shook her head, furrowed her brow, and put a hand on his injured arm. “It feels a bit swollen,” she said slowly, running her fingers gently along his shoulder. “It might be bruised.”

He turned away. “Don't concern yourself. I'll follow you; just let me catch my breath.”

The sun caught her form, framed her face, then she acquiesced, walking through the passageway. The path was flanked on all sides by hard stone, and the little tunnel provided a welcome respite from the glaring heat of the sun.

She soon heard footsteps behind her, heavy bootprints. She turned to face Damar, and he grinned.

“Surprise.”

“If you're in pain, then we can stop,” she said honestly. “The sun's about to go down, and I don't fancy our chances scaling a mountain in the dark.”

He harrumphed, pursed his lips. “And I think,” he began, as they continued to trek through the tunnel. “I can see the lights of the city.”

They were soon through the passageway, and were met by the fading light of Pirithous Prime's red dwarf star. Corina walked in front, taking deliberate steps, but some were not deliberate enough. She felt the ground drop out from beneath her feet, her legs swinging wildly in the air, as she misjudged the edge of the cliff-face. But she never had the chance to cry out, to fall; Damar had lurched forwards and had clamped a hand firmly around her wrist.

She blinked, caught her breath, stared at him, as he heaved her up onto the platform – and she fell on top of him. They lay like that for a long time, before she heaved herself up off of him.

“Thanks,” she breathed, tucking an escaped tendril of hair behind her ear.

He drew himself up onto his elbows, grunted, flexed his shoulder. “No problem.”

“Damar.”

“What?”

“What did you mean when you said you'd never been jealous of Dukat… until now?”

“I didn't say I was 'jealous',” he said quickly.

She rolled her eyes. “Envious, then.”

He looked at her, and realised that there was no avoiding the question. His hand sought the nape of his neck. When he caught her gaze again, he was inexorably reminded of the time she had healed his shoulder, when her fingers had brushed along the ridges on his neck, when she had been so close to him.

“I said what I meant.”

Sighing, she pressed a hand to her forehead, held it there awhile. “Whatever,” she murmured. Then she saw him wincing, as if in pain. “Take your cuirass off.”

“What?”

“Just do it.” She opened the medpack, picking out a roll of white fabric. “I'll wrap a bandage around your shoulder; that might help to relieve the pressure.”

Grudgingly, he unclasped his chestplate, and he set it down onto the rocks with a clatter. She rolled his uniform sleeve up, her gaze catching on the intricate scales embedded in his skin, a delicate network of ridges and bumps. Then she cleared her throat and wound the bandage around his shoulder, which was slightly darker than the rest of his skin.

“That should be better,” she said absently, pulling his uniform sleeve back down.

He started to pull on the chestplate again, but she put a restraining hand on his arm.

“In all honesty, I think all that metal is putting a strain on your shoulder.”

“I can't not wear it,” he grunted. “It's my uniform, it's armour.”

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief, then gestured to her own apparel; a dirty white spaghetti-strap dress with a ripped hem. “Oh, and where's my armour?”

His gaze caught on her body, on her curves and her form, and then he was reminded of her ferocity, of her fire, and he smiled. “I-- I don't think you'll need any.”

A smile tugged on the corners of her mouth and she had no choice – no desire – but to let it show. She put the remains of the bandage roll back in the medpack, closed it. Then she looked to the distance, in an alcove, and narrowed her eyes.

“Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“I don't know,” she said, tripping over her words. “I thought I saw something – wait! There it was again.” Urgently, she caught his eye. “Tell me you saw _that.”_

He frowned, his eyeridges coming together. “No.”

She groaned. “There,” she said, pointing.

His confusion was replaced by a smirk. “You mean that goat?”

She stared at the alcove, and sure enough, there was a cloven-hoofed hairy creature stalking about carelessly. It was munching on grass stems, shaking its tail, as it went about its mundane life.

The concern disappeared from her face. “Yeah,” she said softly, embarrassed. “I guess I thought it was a lion or something.”

“A what?”

“A lion,” she repeated, staring at him. “You know, a massive carnivorous cat.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Remind me never to take you to the Opuuya Mountain Range on Cardassia.”

She hadn't even registered the true meaning of what he'd said. _Remind_ me _never to take_ you…

Taking her blank expression to show confusion, he continued. “It's home to packs of Khalar Beasts. They've been known to hunt a man and strip him down to the bone in less than an hour.”

She scowled at him. “Are you _trying_ to give me nightmares?”

He only grinned as they went into the alcove that the goat had deserted. They settled down, attempting to get comfortable as they once again realised that they'd be sleeping on rocks.

Corina looked down, and what she saw was beautiful and menacing. The cliff-face could have stretched on for miles, up to the sky and down to the earth. The desert was golden, and every so often, a gust of wind would rake up the sand, sending the grains flying in spirals. Snakes slithered and lizards crawled across the orange plain, seeking whatever minimal shade there was. The sun was slowly sinking beneath the horizon, but there was no moon to replace it.

“Does Cardassia have a moon?” she suddenly asked.

“It's got one,” Damar replied, as he found himself thinking of his homeworld, of his people, of Terok Nor. “I visited it once, many years ago.”

“I loved sitting outside on a clear night back on Earth and looking up at the sky,” she murmured, wistful. “The Moon was so pale, so bright. It lit up everything. That's what doesn't feel right here. There's no moon, no light. Just darkness.” She couldn't even see many stars. A shudder tore through her. “It's colder here, don't you think?”

Damar had resolved to sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest. “I hate the cold,” he said smoothly. “But I'm wearing a lot more than you are.”

She laughed bitterly. “I should've rescued my coat from the shuttle.”

“You can wear my uniform top, if you want.”

She shook her head. “No, it's fine. Honestly.”

He nodded swiftly, curtly, but then he opened his arms. “Sit with me.”

Briefly, she hesitated. But she could see the goosebumps springing up on her arms, and her teeth were starting to chatter. So she took her hair down, let it fall across her shoulders, then she shuffled over to him, and he placed his arm around her. Soon enough, the sun had all but disappeared and the night sky was black; Damar and Corina sat there, backs against the mountain face, beside each other.

  



	13. Chapter 13

The early morning sunlight was hot and intense; it had somehow managed to finds its way through the tunnel in the mountain. Corina blinked, stirred, stretched. She looked up, realised that her head was resting on Damar's cuirassed chest. A smile graced her lips.

Her movement had disturbed him; he grunted, caught her eye.

“Morning,” she said, stifling a yawn, already getting to her feet.

He smacked his lips. “Did you sleep well?”

She sighed. “As well as I could,” she said honestly, genially.

“I don't make a very good pillow, then?” he inquired, raising an eyeridge.

She smiled wryly. “No, you do,” she said shortly. “I guess I've just got a lot on my mind.”

“You're angry with Dukat?”

Slowly, she nodded. “Of course I am.”

He yawned, stretched, felt his wounded shoulder. “Are you hungry?”

His question had caught her off-guard. “I-- Yeah, I suppose so.” She watched as he opened up the rations pack and handed her a packet of something as yet undisclosed; it looked like a wafer, or perhaps a biscuit. She tentatively brought it up to her lips, smelled it, then bit into it. It tasted like nothing she'd ever tasted before.

Damar had already eaten his when he looked over at her. He grinned.

“Is that seriously what counts as rations on Cardassia?” she asked, trying to get the foul taste out f her mouth.

But he only chuckled. “You get used to it.”

The gross taste of the rations nearly made her wonder how exactly the Cardassians had become a militaristic species, if _that_ was what their soldiers lived on.

“What I wouldn't give to eat proper food,” she said with a sigh, her gaze travelling over to the glittering lights of the city in the distance.

He grunted, smiled grimly. “And to sleep in proper bed.”

For a moment, she caught his eye and his blue gaze remained on hers. Then she cleared her throat, picked up the medpack and gestured to the mountain path. He stepped in front of her, and she briefly adopted a look of indignation, but she conceded to following him down the treacherous path, walking over and around obstructive rocks and chasms.

A row of bushes shielded them from the sun – and from whatever prying eyes happened to be there – as they made there way down the route. The plants were dry, wispy, and clearly in need of water. One looked particularly deathly, and Corina dug out the water from the rations pack and poured some of if onto the plant's roots. Soon, the liquid had dried and she thought the bush looked a little bit greener.

“We needed that, you know,” Damar said with a dangerous look on his face.

She nodded, put the water away. “I know, but there's some left. Look, we're nearly at the city. We can get water then.”

He caught her eye pointedly. “Has anyone ever told you that you're naive?”

She snorted. “I'm not naive. I'm hopeful.”

They continued in silence for a bit longer. Alien birds chirped and tweeted up above, circling them in vast patterns high up in the sky; the wind blew gently and carefully. Soon enough, they were getting close to ground level. Corina spun around, craned her neck, squinted in the sun's glare. She saw the top of the mountain piercing the blue sky.

A lengthy trek down another path, equally as shaded and secret as the last, was flanked not by shrubbery but by what looked like brick.

Corina frowned, pressed a curious hand to the wall; it was cold and damp. “This must lead to the city.”

Damar narrowed his eyes. His Cardassian hearing could pick up that which her human hearing could not; he heard the thrumming of vehicle engines, the faint voices of people. When she looked at him, she knew that he was regretting the loss of his disruptor in the shuttle crash. She concurred.

But she could see as well as he. Shortly, they reached the end of the alleyway and all of their senses were instantly assaulted by smells, sights, sounds. The air was thick and filled with black smoke; the surroundings smelt stale and oily; the people walking around looked worse-for-wear. They were mostly wearing dirty, simple clothes, but there were a few who were dressed rather opulently, with pendants hanging from their necks and weapons on their belts. She saw many species – Trills, Romulans, Bolians, Klingons. Then she shuddered. And Orions. But she reminded herself not to stare.

The scene resembled a market, but not one that Corina would have chosen to visit. They walked through the street, trying to seem inconspicuous. Left, right and centre, from all sides, they had food and clothes and jewels thrust at them from street vendors.

“I think we're probably standing out,” Corina whispered to Damar, putting a hand on his arm.

He noticed that her slender fingers were curled around his sleeve. “Yes, I see what you mean,” he muttered, as a gaggle of aliens began to stare at him, at his neckridges and scales and uniform. He then saw their gazes travel over to Corina, who was stood beside him, in her muddy, torn, threadbare dress.

Abruptly, he cleared his throat, then stepped over to one of the market stalls. The shaggy-haired, snout-nosed vendor turned around, and Corina didn't have to concentrate very hard to notice that he was a Tellarite.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, and despite his round face, his tone was rather menacing.

Damar pursed his lips, stared him straight in the eye. “You've got clothes, yes?”

The Tellarite gestured to the apparel hanging around himself. “I do.”

Corina took a step forward, in front of Damar. “How much would you want for this?” she asked, picking up a blue jumpsuit.

His face twisted into a smirk. “Some time alone with you should be sufficient,” he said with a sneer, his pudgy hand covering hers, his eager gaze clinging to her.

She snatched her hand away, glared at him. She clenched her fists, ensuring that she wouldn't slap him.

But Damar wasn't so forgiving. He had lurched forward and had the Tellarite in a chokehold. “Give her the clothes.”

The alien's eyes widened in something akin to terror. “I-- I'm sorry, Sir. I can only apologise. I didn't realise she was… yours. I didn't mean any trouble.”

Damar only glowered at him, ignored his babbling. “Give it to her,” he said once more, his teeth gritted.

Corina despaired, scowled at Damar. “Damar, get off him. It's fine.”

A muscle in his jaw flinched, but he let go of the Tellarite.

She reached down to her ankle, and when she stood up straight again, she was holding a small silver bracelet in her hand. She handed it to the Tellarite, who took it rather gingerly. He squinted down at it, then smiled repulsively.

“You have it,” she said firmly, as she picked up the jumpsuit. “But we'll want food, too. And a place to stay.”

The vendor stared at her, and so did Damar.

“What the hell are you doing?” Damar asked her, rather angrily.

She glanced at him. “I'm clearing up the mess you made,” she said shortly. She turned back to the Tellarite. “Well?”

The vendor groped around his stall and gathered together a collection of fruits and vegetables, thrusting them into her arms.

“I cannot give you accommodation,” he said simply, meeting her gaze.

She looked at Damar, who stepped forward and regarded him with serious, dangerous eyes. “We're not leaving until you do it.”

Corina looked around briefly, surreptitiously, and every time a passer-by looked at her for too long, or walked in her direction, she felt concerned. She fretted that it would be Starfleet, or the Obsidian Order, or worse.

“Keep walking for half a mile and head down the first turning on your left,” the Tellarite finally said, albeit rather tightly.

Damar raised a curious eyeridge.

“It's my home,” the Tellarite muttered.

But Corina found that her conscience hadn't deserted her. She shook her head. “We won't kick you out of your home.”

“I have a spare room,” he added, his tone still rather icy and his expression still rather jumpy.

Damar took her to one side. “Are you mad? We can't stay in the same building as _him.”_

She caught his eye. “Why not?”

“Because he's a freak. And it's not exactly foolproof, is it?”

“You're saying he's a spy?” she asked bluntly, adjusting her hold on their purchases.

“I'm not saying that. I'm saying that other people might be.” He gestured to their surroundings. “Just look at where we are.”

“Damar,” she said firmly. “I don't see us getting a better offer.” With that, she returned to the Tellaraite and told him that she and Damar would be taking him up on his offer.

“You shouldn't have treated him like that,” she said as they trudged through the street; she was wary of stepping in suspicious puddles and walking into dark characters.

He didn't meet her gaze. “He shouldn't have treated you like that.”

She shrugged. “Maybe not. But we're hear for a reason, and it's not to go assaulting Tellarites.”

He grunted out some sort of concession, and they soon reached the door to the building. It was rather ramshackle, but built out of stone, or so it seemed. She keyed in the command code given by the Tellarite – and hoped that he'd been telling the truth. The door was stiff and slow, but it did eventually slide open. The rooms inside were rather bland, but there were a few wall-hangings and books.

“There's no replicator,” she observed, setting down the food and the clothes.

“I don't imagine there's much of anything,” Damar added, rather unhelpfully.

Gingerly, she walked over to the door that led to the room which the Tellarite had said would be theirs. The door slid open just as laboriously as the other one, and Corina blinked at what she saw.

Damar followed her gaze and grinned, unclasping his cuirass and shoving it unceremoniously into a storage cupboard; he figured that wearing a uniform with the Cardassian Union's emblem emblazoned across it wasn't the best idea. “There's only one bed.”

“I can see that.”

Before his mind could run away from him, before he could start thinking of the impossible, he cleared his throat. “I'll sleep in a chair.”

She looked up at him. “The bed's big enough,” she said softly, thinking over her words, thinking if she would regret them at a later date. “I'm sure it'll be fine.”

“Pass me the padd,” Damar said after a time, rather gruffly.

She handed it to him, and he began to scroll through it, his eyes focused intently on the screen. Then he swore, throwing the device down on the bed.

Her eyes narrowed, she watched him. “What is it?”

“This damn thing doesn't tell us anything about this place,” he muttered.

She pursed her lips in thought. “What do you mean?”

“About where we are, whose space we're in, how far we are from Magnus IV.”

“Then we'll just have to find that out the old-fashioned way, won't we?” she suddenly decided, as a plan settled in her mind.

Damar didn't find out what she meant until there was a buzz at the front door, and the Tellarite seller stepped out of the dank streets and into the building. He wore a scowl on his face and his eyes were wide in apprehension.

“I… I wanted to thank you,” Corina began, leaving her and Damar's room for the main atrium of the house. She had since changed into the jumpsuit, and found that it didn't really fit.

The Tellarite snorted.

But she continued. “For letting us stay here.”

“I only agreed because of that mad Spoonhead,” was his tight response.

Hearing that, Damar swaggered in, his jaw set and his eyes dark.

The Tellarite, however, didn't seem as unnerved by Damar's presence as he had done before. “I hate you Cardassians and what you stand for,” he began bluntly. Then his beady gaze settled on Corina. “But I sold that jewellery for a substantial price.”

Briefly, she looked down at her ankle.

The Tellarite pursed his lips, didn't blink. “You never told me your names.”

Damar snorted. “You never told us yours.”

Corina cleared her throat. “I'm Corina, and this is Damar.”

“Warc Bratif,” he said swiftly, forcing out the words as if it were a hardship. “How long will you be staying?”

“A few days,” Corina said, though she didn't sound sure. “No more.”

“I do not object to your presence, human,” Bratif said. “But I cannot help but wonder what business a member of a Federation species has with a Cardassian brute.”

“It's nothing to do with you,” she said smoothly, before Damar could do anything that they would both regret.

Bratif seemed to mull that over, his gaze raking over her form. “Just stay out of my way.”

Corina gave him a forced smile, then ushered Damar into their room. The door slid shut labouredly and the two of them were alone. She sighed, flopped onto the bed.

“You need to calm down,” she said, catching Damar's eye.

“Who put you in charge?”

“Oh, Damar, listen to yourself. That Bratif is doing us a massive favour.”

He snorted, raised an eyeridge. “By Cardassia, can't you see it?”

“See what?”

“He's only agreed to let us stay here because he wants to _slet_ you.”

She shot to her feet, rounded on him; she didn't need the universal translator to know what he had said.

“What _is_ your problem?” she snapped.

“I haven't got a problem.”

She scoffed, shook her head. “Oh, yes you do.”

He turned away, picked up the padd. But she snatched it out of his hand and her aquamarine eyes dared him to look away. He gave in, regarded her, and he wanted her. Then he put his hand on hers, felt its coldness and its delicacy. Then he let go.

“You're right. I should be more careful,” he said.

For a long while, she could do nothing but look at him, stare at him incredulously. With a sigh, she got to his feet, leaving Damar to smoulder. She caught sight of Bratif eating dinner, and she met his beady gaze.

“May I sit down?” she asked, and he eventually nodded. Corina wasn't sure what exactly it was that he was eating, but it smelled rather foul and she was sure it was moving, writhing, wriggling. She tried not to turn her nose up.

He finished chewing his mouthful. “You've forgotten that the Federation is at war with Cardassia?” A sly smile followed his question.

“I know there's a war,” she said simply, trying not to look indignant.

“Then why are you travelling with _him?_ Are you his--?”

Swiftly, she cut him off. “No,” she said firmly, emphatically. “How long have you been here? On Pirthous Prime?”

He seemed slightly concerned by her question, but he answered it nonetheless. Whether his answer was truthful, Corina didn't know. “Ten years,” he said. He wiped his snout-like nose with a napkin, patted his rotund stomach.

“But this planet's owned by the Orions, isn't it?”

He nodded, folded up his napkin.

“So what brought you here? Why aren't you on Tellar?”

“Why so many questions?” he suddenly snapped, and she was reminded that the Tellarites were an argumentative species.

“Because I wish to know the identity of my landlord,” she managed to say.

A grin formed on his lips as food remnants glistened on his matted beard. “My family disowned me,” he said shortly. “I heard that there was lucrative business to be made here. But, as they say, never trust a Ferengi. I should've listened.”

“Why don't you leave?” she asked, leaning forward, her elbows on the table.

Then he laughed bitterly. “You can't _leave_ Pirithous Prime. It's only five lightyears from Magnus IV.”

Her eyes widened. “Magnus IV?”

“The Syndicate has got eyes everywhere. My business plays some minor role in their operations. I can only leave this planet when I ship stock over to Magnus IV.”

“You've got a ship?”

He faltered, then nodded. “Of course I've got a ship.”

Her heart began to thump wildly, a smile very nearly formed on her lips. She stood up from her chair. “Thank you, Bratif,” she said as she returned to her room, with the Tellarite staring confusedly after her.

She found Damar lying on the bed, hands behind his head, eyes closed. He didn't sit up when she came in but he did open his eyes.

She perched herself on the edge of the bed, and the two of them weren't touching. “I've been speaking with Bratif.”

“Of course you have,” he grumbled.

Outraged, irritated, she moved to stand up, but then she felt a hand – his hand – on her wrist, and she lowered herself back onto the bed. He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and his face displayed nothing but sincerity.

“I'm sorry.”

She pursed her lips, absently ran her fingers through her thick hair. “We're five lightyears from Magnus IV.” She paused, her mind on other things. “And Bratif owns a ship. He does regular cargo runs there.”

A muscle in the Cardassian's jaw twitched and his mouth became a flat line. “Hopefully we'll be out of here by tomorrow, then.”

A rueful smile creased on her lips. “If only it was that easy. He didn't say he'd give us passage. And going on what he was saying, I wouldn't hold out too much hope.”

“I thought you said you _were_ hopeful.”

“Perhaps I'm just naive.”

But he shook his head. “Naive? No.”

She looked up, caught his gaze, leant ever so slightly forward. He reached a grey hand up, tentatively, gingerly, ran the back of his thumb down her cheek, cupped her chin.

“You're brave, intelligent and so very beautiful,” he said, the words merely falling from his mouth. He lowered his head, and their foreheads were touching.

Corina opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She pulled back ever so slightly, studied his face, handsome and watchful. Her hand fell to his neck and her fingertips brushed against the intricate ridges and scales; he was holding her face. She waited, and slowly, their lips came together. But only briefly, fleetingly. She recoiled, shook her head. 

He stared at her, aghast, as she staggered to her feet.

“Corina, what are you doing?” he started, his gaze hanging on hers.

She touched a hand to her forehead. “I-- I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing,” she babbled. “But we shouldn't… We shouldn't be doing this.”

He tried not to look at her, to imagine kissing her, touching her, again. “It's been a long day,” he said quickly, mechanically. “You ought to get some sleep.”

She watched him with veiled eyes as he went and sat in a chair in the corner of the dark room. He was looking at the padd, but both she and he knew that he wasn't really reading it. Corina sunk back onto the bed, felt it dip beneath her, then she pulled the thin cover over herself and lay there, still, thinking, as day became night.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Here it is - chapter 14, finally! It wrote it quite a while ago, but I must've forgotten about it... Anyway, thanks to everyone who's read/reviewed/followed it so far - I hope that you've all enjoyed it!

The following morning dawned slowly. Corina blinked, let her eyes adjust to the light, then sat up in the bed, uncomfortable as it was. Her body might have slept but her mind had been very much awake. Concern flashed over her features when she looked around the room. She threw the sheet to one side and swung her legs over the side of the bed, getting to her feet. That was when she noticed that Damar wasn't in the room.

And then she remembered what had happened – or rather, not happened – the previous night. So she calmed herself, washed, then slipped back into the ill-fitting jumpsuit.

She came into the atrium. A glance at the Tellarite's old chronometer told her that it was very early in the morning, and the light from the red dwarf star was streaming in through the small windows. She saw Bratif.

"Good morning," she said, looking as genial as she could.

He nodded briskly. "I trust you slept well?" he asked, and she detected no sarcasm, no lechery, in his question.

Her hand came up to rub the nape of her neck, and she gave him a half-smile. "You haven't seen Damar, have you?"

Bratif grunted. "The Spoonhead?" He shook his head. "Not this morning."

Confusion, alarm, settled on her face. "I..." she began, but then she stilled herself, and a wry smile formed on her lips. "Nevermind. He's probably just gone for a walk."

He snorted. "Gone for a walk? On Pirithous Prime?"

Yet no matter how much she wanted to ignore his derisive comment, she knew she couldn't. She caught his eye sincerely. "What makes you say that?"

"I think you know," came his frustratingly-simple response. "Now, if you don't mind, some of us have to earn a living." With that, he made for the door, stepped through it and was gone.

Corina stared after him for a long time. Her eyebrows knitted together, her lips parted, her eyes narrowed, as thoughts flooded her mind. She found herself thinking of last night again and again, but each train of thought ended up nowhere, and all she got was regret and paranoia. The minutes went slowly by, until, at last, she made a decision.

She left the ramshackle house for the glaring heat of the sun. She was met by a cacophony of noises and smells and sights, and she had to reminded herself that she wasn't in Ancient Babylon or the like. She found herself in a crowd, or, rather, the crowd found her. There were merchantmen and soldiers and children and, from what she could see, prostitutes, all swarming around her, as they went about their individual businesses. The stench of sweat and the searing air almost overwhelmed her.

Shielding her eyes, pursing her lips, keeping her head low, she started walking. In the distance, she could see the desert across which she and Damar had trekked; she could also make out the twin mountains as they pierced the sky.

Suddenly, a figure stepped out of the shadows and appeared in front of her. She paled and wanted to turn back but was frozen to the spot.

"You want something?" a voice hissed.

She blinked, focused, and her gaze settled on an elderly woman. She had few teeth – most of which were rotten – sunken eyes and grubby fingernails. The woman, despite her leathery face, had faded green skin.

Corina stared at her. "What?"

"You want a gift?" the Orion woman asked, her voice low and urgent.

"No, I have to get going," she said. "I need to find my friend."

The woman opened her hand and rest on her palm was a small vial. There was a bubbling, yellow liquid in it; there was no lid on it and small wisps of gas emanated from it. Corina didn't look too close, but its odour reached her nonetheless. Her vision started to betray her and went blurry; soon enough, she couldn't see more than five foot in front of herself. Her legs felt rubbery and jelly-like, and she staggered backwards into a wall. But she didn't feel ill or injured or distressed; she felt sleepy, delightfully so. Her head was pounding, the blood thumping in her ears, but she took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that the Orion woman was still stood in front of her, the vial still in her hand. Holding onto the damp wall for support, Corina stared at the woman.

"What… the hell… was that?" she breathed, pressing a hand to her forehead, telling herself that what she was feeling was bad.

The woman's rotten teeth displayed a grin. "I've got more. Pretty lady wants more?"

Corina shook her head, as emphatically as she could. She tried to ignore the ringing on her ears. "No, I want you to leave me alone. I need to go. I need to find my friend."

The Orion closed her hand and the vial disappeared. Then she slipped back into the alleyway from which she had come, and was gone.

She stood there, against the wall, for a long time, taking deep breaths and attempting to clear her head. Eventually, the thrumming in her ears stopped and her eyesight returned to normal. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighed, looked around, and was reminded of where she was.

"Damar?" she called out tentatively, craning her neck and scanning the marketplace. But it was so busy and there was so much colour. She called out his name again, this time louder, but she saw and heard nothing.

She went up to one of the stalls, walking past a pair of women clad only in loincloths. "Excuse me," she began. "Have you seen a Cardassian around here?"

The Bolian vendor shook his head, laughed hoarsely. "Spoonheads here? I don't think so."

Corina groaned, dragged herself away from the stall. "Thanks for nothing," she murmured. She had no idea what the time was, or how long she'd been out for, but the rumbling of her stomach and the aching of her feet told her that it was a substantial length of time.

She walked the length of the market, asking the same question to most of the people that she came across. Some she didn't ask because they simply ignored her; others threatened her. After a time, she came to a sidestreet. Glancing around momentarily, she took a tentative step down it. She shivered, in spite of the warmth of the place.

Her footsteps echoed on the cobbles. "Damar?" she said gingerly, speeding up her pace. "I think we ought to talk. Damar, please."

But she realised that she was talking to no one, that she was being stupid, and she turned to leave, to return to Bratif's house. She had barely noticed the hand on her shoulder, or the two people stood in front of her.

Before she could react, she was cornered. She also discovered that the effects of the liquid in the vial had not yet deserted her. She wanted to do something, to lash out, but her movements were dulled. She saw their green faces and she forced herself to remain alert.

One of the Orions was holding her firmly, harshly, painfully, by the shoulders. The other two were simply watching, leers on their faces. She noticed that all three of them had what looked like disruptors, and she knew that disruptors didn't have a stun setting.

"She'll do well," one of the Orions said. "Very well."

The one holding her snorted, grinned. "We don't often get humans coming our way."

"Get off me," she hissed, trying to twist out of his grip.

"But you're here now," he continued. "And you'll be here for a long time."

Corina clenched her jaw, narrowed her eyes, then drew her elbow sharply forward. She drove it with all of her might into the stomach of the Orion behind her. He staggered backwards, winded. Then she swung her leg around and kicked him, her shoe landing squarely in his face. He crumpled to the floor, groaning.

She started away but the other two Orions had lurched forward and were holding her with even more force. She couldn't move.

"And she's got spirit," one of them sneered. He grabbed her face, harsh hand on her chin, met her eye. "You're coming back to our compound."

She spat in his face.

"No, she isn't," declared a disembodied voice, and Corina's heart nearly failed when she saw the voice's owner.

He lunged forward, drew out a disruptor, aimed it and fired it. A beam of energy shot out from the barrel, struck one of the Orions in the chest. Then it enveloped him in its fiery red glow, he screamed, and was reduced to dust. The other two Orions met the same fate.

"Damar!" she breathed, stumbling over to him.

He tucked the disruptor away, regarded her with furious eyes. "We have to get out of here. Sensors would've detected the disruptor fire."

Without saying anything further, he grabbed her hand and they ran down the sidestreet, back into the crowded marketplace. Moments later, hoards of what looked like soldiers were marching around, interrogating the various aliens and turning over the market stalls.

They could see Bratif's home, they could see respite, but it looked so far away. Corina's face paled, her eyes widened, as she caught sight of a pair of Orion soldiers heading in their direction. She reached up, took Damar's face in her hands, and pressed her lips to his, and they staggered into one of the stalls. His surprise was only momentary, and he responded eagerly, his hands holding her hips steadfastly. Out of the corner of her eye, Corina saw that the soldiers had walked on. Slowly, she released Damar from the kiss.

He blinked, stared at her curiously.

"To blend in," she said simply, as it was the best explanation.

He smiled briefly. "Of course."

They made it back to Bratif's house and wasted no time in getting to their room.

Corina began to pace, combing her fingers madly through her hair.

"What where you doing out there?" Damar asked her bluntly.

She didn't look at him. "I was looking for you," she snapped. "I woke up and you were gone. I thought you'd done something stupid."

He grinned. "Me? Do something stupid?"

She sighed. "No, really, I thought you'd been captured or..."

He stepped over to her. "I was following those Orions. They're slavers." He pinched his nose. "Corina… I thought they'd gotten you. I thought I'd never see you again."

"I was fine, Damar," she said, though she said it as much to reassure herself as to reassure him. "Honestly."

His lips twisted into a wry smile. "It was impressive, how you dealt with that Orion."

She scoffed. "You were watching?"

"I thought you could handle yourself," he reasoned. "And I was right. Partially."

"The whole place will be on high alert now," she said, her voice only a murmur. "You need to hide that disruptor." She frowned. "Where did you get it from?"

"I- It doesn't matter."

"It does."

"It's mine."

For a second, she only stared at him. "You mean you had it with you this whole time?"

He faltered.

"Why the hell didn't you say something sooner?"

"Because I didn't want to worry you."

"Worry me?" she repeated, indignant. "I'm not a child, Damar. I don't need protecting."

The door suddenly glided open, and the stout form of Bratif was standing in the doorway.

"I trust I'm not interrupting?" he asked, but he didn't sound apologetic.

Corina cleared her throat, brushed her hair behind her ears. "No, not at all."

His gaze turned into a glower when he saw Damar. "You're back, then?"

Damar grunted. "I'm glad to be back."

"When I get my hands on the bastard who caused that commotion in the market..." Bratif muttered, his face darkening. "I'll leave you two to it."

They were once again alone, surrounded by confusion and thoughts.


	15. Chapter 15

"Have you always wanted to be a soldier?"

Damar looked up, regarded her through veiled eyes. It was almost if he were measuring her, scrutinising her, trying to uncover the intent behind her question. He looked to the cupboard where he had hidden the disruptor and his uniform, and he realised that he had no option but to give her an answer.

"It's one of the only paths for my people," he said simply.

Corina turned around, away from the wall, so that she was facing him. "You didn't want to be a scientist, a doctor, a politician?"

A brief smile flashed across his face. "On Cardassia, politics and the military are very much intertwined. Besides, I don't have the patience to study medicine."

She laughed then, a short, sweet laugh. They held each other's gaze for a while, and she subconsciously took a step over to him, closing the space between them.

He pursed his lips, frowned. "When I was a boy, my father took me to the Veterans' Bridge in Cardassia City." He smiled grimly. "He wanted to show me the statues of some of the Legates of the past. He died only a year later."

Then, she could not deny the warmth that she felt for him, the compassion that was growing. She took his hand in hers, brushed her fingers along the intricate, delicate scales. "Perhaps there'll be Cardassian children in years to come who visit that bridge to look at a statue of you." A smile tugged on her lips, and she did not hide it.

He snorted, tore his gaze away from her, and got to his feet. "We should talk to Bratif."

"Talk to him? What for?" She followed him as they left the room.

"We need to get off of this planet," he said swiftly, decidedly.

She bit her lip. "Easier said than done."

"I'm not risking a repeat of what happened today." He sounded icy and serious. "If I hadn't gotten to you in time… you'd be chained up on some Orion slave ship."

"But you did get to me in time," she said, almost sounding desperate.

When they arrived in the atrium of Bratif's house, the Tellarite didn't bother to greet or even look at them.

"Bratif," Corina began, walking swiftly over to the table behind which the alien was stood.

Eventually, he met her eye. He put down the tools in his hand; he had been gathering together his stock and apparently checking it for damage. When she peered closely, Corina could see bits of wood and rock, obviously from the Orion soldiers' charge earlier that day. She hid the guilt from her face.

"What do you want?"

"Damar and I… we-" she faltered, broke off, ended up glancing at Damar.

The Cardassian strode over. "We need you to give us passage to Magnus IV."

Corina simply stared at him.

Bratif also stared at him, but then his face cracked into a grin, and he began chortling uncontrollably. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "I never knew Spoonheads had such a good sense of humour. Your people always struck me as rather blunt individuals."

She saw Damar curl his hands into fists, and she realised that she had to do something. "Bratif… we're so grateful for your hospitality."

"I didn't have much choice in the matter, did I?" he asked with a grunt, scowling at Damar, who didn't move.

"And we would pay you if we could. But we've got no money, and… well, we need to get to Magnus IV. It's so important – more important than you could ever know."

"You must think I'm some kind of fool," he snapped. "This moronic Cardassian friend of yours threatens me so that I've got no choice but to let you stay in my house. And then you think you can just ask me to take you to Magnus IV, the Orion Syndicate's main base of operations." He cackled again.

"I know it sounds stupid," she said, urgent.

"It sounds stupid because it is stupid," he quipped. "You couldn't pay me all of the latinum in the world to persuade me to let you on my ship."

"Why?"

Bratif glared at Damar, resented his question, but answered it nonetheless. "Because, though I might dislike it here, I make a decent living. And I'm not about to throw it all away by betraying the Syndicate for your sakes!"

Damar considered. He pursed his lips, narrowed his eyes. "Are you a coward?"

"You dare call me a coward, you Cardassian wretch? You, whose people are renowned for their obsequy and arrogance?" He scoffed.

"Bratif, please," Corina said, her voice soft, her eyes bright. "We have to get to Magnus IV."

"Then you can ask someone else."

"No, we can't," she said emphatically. "Of all the people on this damn rock, you're the only person we trust." She shot Damar a withering glare when he looked like he was about to interrupt.

"The Syndicate aren't stupid. They'll be watching. Even if I wanted to take you to Magnus IV, I couldn't."

"But you do regular cargo runs there, don't you?" she pressed, and she saw his face falter. "You told me as much. We could hide on board your ship and the Orions will be none the wiser."

It seemed as if the Tellarite was actually considering her proposal, her reasoning. "I want you two out of her by tomorrow morning."

Thoughts raced around Corina's head a million times a minute. All sorts of ideas, of eventualities, came to her, but when she followed them, they led nowhere. She pressed a hand to her forehead. But Damar had spoken before she had the chance to.

"I'll give you my disruptor," he said gruffly, honestly.

The Tellarite regarded him curiously. His snout twitched. "Your disruptor?" Then his thick brows knitted together and he became wide-eyed. "It was you! You killed those Orions! You destroyed my stall!"

Damar didn't look the slightest bit guilty. "But you can have my disruptor. It's Cardassian, type four. It can blow a hole in a shuttle craft easily. Just imagine what it could do to people."

"Damar," Corina began, unsure.

"You'll be the only civilian in this city with such a weapon," Damar continued.

"Get it for me."

Damar stared at him.

"Bring me the disruptor."

Corina reached out, grabbed Damar's arm. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Getting us a way off of this planet," he hissed. "Unless you'd rather persuade him in another way?" His gaze settled on Bratif. "You'll give us passage?"

"Yes."

The night was surprisingly cold, but the fresh air was welcome. Corina lay on the bed, her eyes closed, her mind alert. She could hear dulled sounds through the tiny window – yells, caterwauls, the buzz of phaser beams and the low hum of vehicle engines. She could also hear quiet, content snoring.

"Damar?" she whispered, gathering herself up onto one elbow.

Slowly, he stirred. Groaning, he drew himself up and stared at her curiously. "What?" he muttered, blinking.

"I wanted to tell you that I… I think you did the right thing."

He raised an eyeridge.

"By giving Bratif your disruptor."

"You weren't so keen on the idea a few hours ago."

A smile crossed her face, disappeared. "I know. It was our only option."

"You think we'll make it to Magnus IV?"

She sighed, looked away briefly. "We have to." Then she caught his eye, and he moved ever so slightly closer to her, gently closing the void between them. "That disruptor was our only weapon, our protection."

He rubbed the back of his neck, studied her as she sat there, the keen light of the stars shining behind her, framing her face. "I know. But we hadn't needed it up until now." A grim smile flashed across his features.

"Our fate is in the hands of a Tellarite crook!" she exclaimed, sighing, looking over at the window, at the night sky, at the world that imprisoned them.

He cleared his throat. "It could be worse."

She frowned. "How, exactly?"

His keen blue eyes met hers. He found himself studying her, committing her image to memory as best he could. He traced the outline of her face, her flushed cheekbones, her aquamarine gaze, her red lips, the waves of her brunette hair. "I would find it hard to think of much wrong with this moment," he said, not looking away. Before he knew it, his hand was on her face, caressing her cheek, feeling the slender contour of her neck, the square of her shoulder.

She leant into his touch, then her lips curved into a smile, a wry, mischievous smile. "How is your shoulder?" she asked, brushing the tips of her finger against the ridges that ran down his neck.

He tried to fight back the compulsion to shudder, but when he caught her gaze, beautiful and curious, he failed. "I haven't been thinking about it lately," he said, and the sentence came out clumsily.

Gingerly, she felt the embossed ridges around his eyes, his cheeks. She reached out, took his hand in hers, then placed it to her face. She guided his touch as it trailed down her body, past her breasts and her stomach. Then she kissed the ridges on his neck, felt him shudder slightly. When she pulled back, she saw that his gaze had not left her, and he pressed his lips to hers, delicately at first, and then with more conviction.

"You're so cold," she said softly, drawing back.

He smiled against her lips. "Cold-blooded." Then he drew her back to him, and his hands were roaming around her body, hers around his.

Her lips moving against his, she reached down, began to pull at the hem of his undershirt, and he pulled it off. For a split second, in the dark, she simply stared at him; at the intricate little bumps and scales that formed the canvas of his chest. She could feel his hand on her thigh, under her dress, and she saw the desire in his eyes.

Then there was a sound, an unwelcome sound. She squeaked, rolled off of him, and he blinked in confusion. The commpanel next to the door beeped; hurriedly, Corina straightened her dress, brushed her hair with her fingers. Damar grunted, calmed himself, as he watched her approach the door.

The bearded, snout-nosed face of Bratif was awaiting them.

"Bratif?" Corina said, half to herself. She folded her arms, caught her breath.

He raised a bushy eyebrow, looked over her shoulder, where he saw the Cardassian with the shallow breathing and the mussed-up hair.

"If you want to go to Magnus IV, we have to leave now," the Tellarite declared, before the door shut.

Corina span around, stared at Damar, who wanted nothing more than to pull her back into the bed, to touch her, to kiss her. He stumbled to his feet, threw on his uniform. Corina tied her hair up, took a deep breath, and retrieved his uniform chest-plate from the cupboard. He was about to take it from her when she smiled, stood behind him and put it on for him. She kissed his cheek, then waved him over to the door.

"Magnus IV, here we come," she said under her breath.


	16. Chapter 16

The cargo ship was waiting patiently at the launch site. Corina was walking briskly, taking careless steps, as she struggled to keep up with the Tellarite and the Cardassian. The air was, unlike the previous nights, bitterly cold, and the chill of the wind made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She had her arms crossed firmly, her head down, and the sleeves of her jumpsuit pulled down over her hands.

She caught sight of Damar in the corner of her eye; he looked nervous, unsure, and she didn't have to guess too many times to know that he was looking out for Orion patrols. Whenever there was a faint yell or the buzz of electrics, all three of them would pause, look around, then continue warily.

It was a small vessel and needed perhaps a six-man crew. Corina thought of her brother, of the ship that he had served on – was serving on – in Starfleet. With its top speed of over warp nine, its sleek design, its state-of-the-art weapons and scientific systems, she knew that it more than eclipsed Bratif's cargo ship.

Bratif trudged over to the ship, patted its dull-grey hull. "Get in," he said, his voice brusque, his eyes beady. His hand wandered beneath his cloak as he felt for the disruptor.

Damar ushered Corina up the ramp, and she wrinkled her nose upon becoming aware of the stale odour in the air.

"You're sure there's no one here?" Damar hissed, catching Bratif in his glare.

The Tellarite barely flinched. "You ought to trust me more than I ought to trust you, Cardassian," he retorted, and Damar grumblingly went on his way.

They had emerged into a narrow, green-painted corridor. The metal floor clanged beneath their feet and the ceiling was rather low. Wires hung out of open panels, floorboards creaked and pockets of steam hissed around them. Lining the corridor were barrels and boxes and crates, and in some of them, Corina could make out the tell-tale fluorescent blue of Romulan came to a row of flashing lights, which the Tellarite pressed carelessly. Slowly, a door opened, and they were standing on the bridge.

Corina blinked, adjusted her eyes to the dim light and the tight air. Two of the walls in the area were composed of windows, large and tall, through which she could see the dry, miserable landscape of Pirithous Prime.

"I'll be here most of the time," Bratif said with a lazy hand gesture. "Duhliss, initiate take-off procedures."

A short, stocky Tellarite looked up from behind her console, and the lack of facial hair and small nose told Corina that it was a female. "Yes, Captain," she said, without even looking at Corina and Damar. The female Tellarite then gave some instructions to the young Tellarite sitting at the helm.

Bratif turned to them.

"Are we staying on the bridge?" Corina asked, furrowing her brow.

He gave a short snort. "I might be helping you but I'm not gullible. You and the Spoonhead are staying in crew's quarters."

"I have a name," Damar said gruffly, glowering at the Tellarite.

But Bratif simply shrugged. He escorted them to the quarters, then left without saying another word.

"There are ten beds here," Corina said, looking around the room. She stepped forward gingerly, over to one of the beds, then jumped when she saw that someone was in the bed.

Damar took her arm firmly, regarded her. "We can't sleep here."

She raised an eyebrow, then a smile creased on her lips. "Why not?"

"Because what if we need to… talk?"

"Talk?"

He pinched his nose. "Corina, we're not meant to be here. It's only a matter of time before the Orions realise that I killed their men, and then they'll come after us."

She thought for a short while, pursed her lips, blew air threw them. "We've got no other choice. My trial's in little over a week and it could take a day to get to Magnus IV on this awful ship."

Wearily, he rubbed the back of his neck, sighed in defeat. "I suppose, next I'll have to kill that insufferable Bratif and resume the role of captain, if we're to get our own quarters."

She slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "No, you won't. And whose to say I won't be the one doing the killing? Besides, it's only one night. And I've got the feeling that Bratif will want us to pitch in with the duties."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's only a small ship, and I'm pretty sure we walked through most of it. How many crewmembers did we see?"

"Only the two on the bridge and our friend here," he said, nodding over to the sleeping alien.

"And Bratif," she said swiftly. "So, add us two, and what've you got? Six. That's all the crew this ship needs."

There were two beds in the corner which looked relatively untouched, and Corina perched herself on the end of one of them. Looking down at her hands in her lap, she sighed. "Damar, can I tell you something?"

He raised an eyebrow, pursed his lips, but nodded.

"It seems weird after… well… what happened earlier," she began, forcing back the blush that was forming on her cheeks. "But I thought… well, I thought that you hated me."

He broke out into laughter. Sobering, he caught her eye. "Hate you? What gave you that idea?"

"Well, you were always picking arguments with me," she said, not faltering, holding his gaze. "I got the impression that you hated being here."

She wondered if he was going to laugh again, but his face was only sincere. "I don't hate you," he said smoothly, coming to sit beside her. He reached up, cupped her delicate chin. "I- it drove me mad when you were on Terok Nor. I thought you were Dukat's comfort woman, and I couldn't bring myself to challenge him for you."

"I'm not some prize, Damar," she said flatly, nearly glaring at him.

But he held her face firmly and smiled apologetically. "I know." He paused, pursed his lips, waited while the ship lifted itself off of the ground. They couldn't see it, but the vessel's choking engines sprayed sand and blew over objects beneath them. Then it dragged itself up into the sky, away from the planet, and into the vastness of space. "I didn't want to come on this… this mission with you because I was afraid of what might happen."

Her façade broke and she cold do nothing but smile at him, her blue eyes sparkling, her red lips curving upwards. "But why were you always so difficult, so argumentative?"

"Because it's the Cardassian way."

She had little time to mull over his answer, for there was an announcement on the comm. The Tellarite crewmember snoring in the bed sprang to his feet, put on his boots.

"All crew report to the bridge," came Bratif's brusque, grating voice.

Haphazardly, Corina and Damar followed the Tellarite and came to the bridge, where Bratif was standing imperiously.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a snort.

"We thought you wanted us here," she said, blinking.

He cackled, snorted again. "I wouldn't trust you to fly my ship."

Corina stared at him. "So you don't want us?"

"Not to man operations, no," he said swiftly, haughtily. "But you are to remain here. That way, I can keep an eye on you. I don't want you out of my sight."

"You think we're going to plot behind your back?" Damar asked, rolling his eyes.

Bratif shot him a glower. "It's not the plotting that I'm worried about." With that, he sank into his command chair. "Prech, warp two."

The first officer did so, and the stars before them became mere streaks of light.

For the next few hours, the two passengers, the stowaways – the human and the Cardassian – sat warily towards the back of the cargo ship's cramped, dusty bridge.

"Uh, Bratif?" Corina began, aware that her voice was the only noise amongst the silence, apart from the low rumbling of the ship's struggling engines.

From his command chair, he grunted. "What?"

"When will we be at Magnus IV?"

"Five hours, I should think," came his curt reply.

"Captain, why are we escorting these criminals to Magnus IV?" the female Tellarite hissed, looking up from her console.

Bratif shot her a look. "I don't pay you to ask questions."

"But, Captain-"

She was cut short not by her captain but by a series of urgent beeps on her console. She frowned down at the display.

"It's a transmission, Sir," Prech said. "From a ship half a lightyear away. It's Orion, and they're closing on us."

"Ignore it."

Whoever was sending the transmission, however, was not in the mood to be ignored. Prech sighed, then opened up a channel when Bratif nodded.

"Identify yourself," came the disembodied voice.

"This is Captain Warc Bratif of cargo vessel S'Har. Who are you?" Bratif asked boldly.

"Your vessel is registered as being Tellarite," the Orion voice continued, disregarding Bratif's inquiry. "Yet our sensors are picking up a human and a Cardassian biosignatures. How do you explain this?"

Bratif blinked, swallowed, rubbed his beard with a pudgy hand. "Your sensors are wrong," he said briskly.

"They've powered up weapons, Sir," Prech declared, desperately catching her captain's eye.

Behind Bratif, Damar was frowning, his eyeridges knitting together. Corina put a hand on his arm, willed him to be quiet.

"Damar," she hissed.

"This ship hasn't got any shields," Damar muttered, looking at her pointedly.

Her lips parted. "We're sitting ducks."

"Our sensors are never wrong," the voice proclaimed. "Prepare to be boarded."

"Wait!" Bratif snapped, almost getting up from his seat. "They're slaves. I bought them to work as crew."

The Orion ship was quiet for a time, then the line went dead.

"They've powered down weapons," Prech said, giving a sigh of relief. "And they're leaving."

Bratif drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as he looked out at the expanse of space in front of him, in front of the ship. Again, silence overcame the bridge; the only sounds were the beeping of instruments and the steady breathing of the crew.

"You two can leave," the Tellarite captain said suddenly. "There are some crates in the cargo hold that need sorting."

"You weren't lying when you said we were your slaves, then?" Corina said, raising an eyebrow.

Bratif simply shrugged. "If those Orions contact us again, they'll want a videofeed. So do it."

Grudgingly, Damar and Corina dragged themselves from the bridge. The narrow corridor enveloped them; steam and heat rushed around them. The metal floorboards clanged underfoot and tangled wires and pipes were exposed. At last, the came to the cargo hold. Though, as Corina noted, hold was rather too generous a word for it. It was very small, and no more than half a dozen people could have stood in it comfortably.

"If Dukat could see me now," Damar murmured, shaking his head. He heaved up one of the containers, opened it. "Kemocite."

Corina peered into the crate, nodded, then recorded its contents on a padd. "You really do admire him, don't you?"

Damar picked up another of the containers, pursed his lips. "I've always admired him."

She wondered how many of the crates contained kemocite. She caught his eye. "What do you think of the Occupation?"

He found himself unable to look away from her, unable to blink, even. "It wasn't Dukat's fault."

She snorted. "I don't care about that. I'm asking what you think about it."

Realising that he was defeated, that there was no way out, he sighed. "I regret it. I regret that whenever someone hears the name of my species, that's all that they can think about."

"I imagine it's all Bajorans can think about, too." She had said it brusquely but she hadn't meant it to sound so.

"But we're paying for it. The Union is paying for it," he continued. "Our government is collapsing."

"What are you saying?"

He didn't want to tell her, but he also didn't want her to find out any other way. He looked into her eyes, ran his gaze over her beautiful, intelligent face. "We're going to withdraw."

"Withdraw?" she repeated, without fully realising that he had just said.

"Being second-in-command to the Prefect of Bajor, you learn things," he said simply. "Whether you want to or not."

"When?"

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "It might not even happen. But after what happened on Setlik III… our forces are seriously depleted."

She blinked, stared at him, folded her arms. "Then you shouldn't have attacked an unarmed Federation research post."

Damar groaned, pressed a hand to his ridged forehead. "Maybe not, but it's happened." He paused. "If need be, I'll stand as a witness for you."

"A witness?"

"Yes, at your trial."

A smile formed on her lips and she reached up to take his face in her hands. "I appreciate it, Damar. I really do. But you know as well as I that once a trial starts on Cardassia, there's only ever one outcome."

He pressed his lips to hers, kissed her softly. "Then we'll have to make sure that your trial never starts." He opened up another of the crates. "Kemocite again."

With a sigh, she logged that in, then waited for the next container.

It was a full four hours before they finished examining and recording the contents of the goods in the cargo hold. Corina caught Damar's gaze, raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I think we can safely say it's all contraband."

He laughed shortly. "I was going to help myself to some of that Romulan Ale, but it's nowhere as good as kanar."

She smiled. "I'm sure."

"And it looks like we're nearly there."

"What makes you say that?" she asked, then she nodded. "Oh. We've dropped out of warp."

He nodded, then he looked out of one of the small windows in the corridor. "We're in a standard orbit around some planet."

"Magnus IV?" Corina asked, her heart thumping in her chest, her blood pumping in her ears. She thought of her brother, of how close he was. Thousands of kilometres. Alone, down there, on that desolate planet.

Damar furrowed his brow, his eyeridges coming together. "It doesn't look pleasant from up here."

Her lips parted in distress, in confusion. "How do you mean?"

"You'll see when we're on the bridge."

And she did. The ship descended from its orbit and struck the planet's atmosphere fiercely. The burning glow of re-entry encased the hull, making a mockery of the vessel's shields. Then there was the beep coming from the communications array again, and Corina and Damar stood silently where they were.

"This is Captain Warc Bratif of the cargo vessel S'Var," Bratif declared; evidently, the earlier fiasco had not dulled his wit. "I have a delivery that is expected. Request permission to land at Black Compound."

For a moment, there was only the hum of static. "What is your cargo?" asked the gruff, unseen voice.

He was tempted to tell them to check the manifest, but he didn't want to rile them up. He cleared his throat. "Five hundred kilograms of kemocite and seventy-five gallons of Romulan Ale."

"Permission granted. Proceed to landing bay alpha-four."

The line went dead, and the Tellarite crew configured their ship for landing.

"Reverse thrusters," Prech called out, her attention on her console. "Descent speed steady, Sir."

There was a clunk and a clatter as the ship finally settled down on the ground. The landing certainly wasn't smooth, and Corina wondered if perhaps she'd gotten a bit of whiplash. Groaning, rubbing her neck, she strode over to Bratif.

"Thank you," she said, whole-heartedly, her gaze on his. "Thank you for this."

"I wouldn't thank me yet," he retorted. "You haven't even left the ship."

"That doesn't matter," she said simply. "We've gotten this far, and I won't forget what you've done."

He raised an eyebrow, snorted, then patted the disruptor holstered to his hip. "Nor will I forget what you've done."

She stared at him briefly, then gave him a curt nod.

"This is as far as I go. Once I've offloaded my cargo, I'm going back to Pirithous Prime," Bratif said. "You and the Spoonhead should head for the Boundary Forest." He gestured for she and Damar to follow him out of the bridge and down one of the cramped corridors. He opened a panel, pulled something out of it – a satchel. He thrust it into her hands.

"What is it?"

"Something I planned on selling," he said simply. "But there wasn't the market for it on Pirithous Prime."

Damar raised a curious eyeridge.

Bratif shot him a look. "The customers there were very… base. They would never appreciate such fine items as these."

Corina opened the bag, her eyes widened. "It's beautiful," she murmured, partially removing a long, silver-encrusted gown from the bag, as well as a red red cloak. There was also a leather overcoat lined with silk which she presumed was for Damar.

"If you wear these, you'll look like clients," Bratif said swiftly. "Not escaped slaves." He began to leave but turned back to face them. "And, if you are captured, do not mention my name. I have very powerful friends."

And with that, he was gone. Hurriedly, Damar threw on the coat. The colour of it was somewhere in between black and red, and the inside of it was lined with the purest Tholian silk. He grunted when he caught sight of himself in a dusty window.

"I think it's quite fetching," she said, trying to stifle a giggle, as she distracted herself with pulling out the silvery garment. It was long, elegant, and under any other circumstances, she wouldn't have thought twice about putting it on.

"What is it?" Damar asked, regarding her inquisitively.

"It's just..." she began, rubbing her forehead. "Well, it feels wrong. Dressing up, I mean. I'm about to find out if my brother is alive, if he's innocent, and that's not even to mention my trial! I'm not exactly starring in a fashion show."

Damar reached up, put a hand to her soft cheek, traced her jawline. "You heard what Bratif said," he muttered, and she knew that he was right. "It's a… a necessary evil."

She managed a smile, then began to unzip her jumpsuit.

He cleared his throat. "Did you want me to…?" he began.

"Look away?" She shook her head, laughed. "Is there really any point in that?"

He wasn't about to argue. She shimmied out of the jumpsuit and it formed a crumpled pile on the floor. He watched, desperately trying to still the beating of his heart, to ignore the thoughts in his mind. He closed his eyes, and when he had opened them, she had just finished pulling on the dress. It fit perfectly, the silvery fabric clinging to her form, outlining the curve of her hips, her breasts. Then she wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, and he put his arm around her waist.

The two of them stepped out of the shuttle, into a sea of people, with their hoods up and their heads low.


	17. Chapter 17

The thumping of music reached her ears, made her bones rattle. The air was still and fresh, but the mass of bodies gave the illusion that it was almost as hot as it had been on Pirithous Prime. Magnus IV was, however, much further away from its parent star, and the planet's sun was a tiny orb glowing in the dark sky.

Corina looked out from under her cloak. "Do you know where we're going?"

He threw her a bemused look. "I've got no more of an idea than you do."

She sighed, being careful not to dislodge her cloak. They were weaving their way through a crowd of people; bodies were pressing against them, bumping into them, getting in the way. When the mass of people dissipated a bit, Corina could get a glimpse of the ground. Unlike the uneven cobbles of the market on Pirithous Prime, it was smooth, polished, even, and was certainly not natural.

At present, Corina and Damar were walking arm-in-arm through the concourse that led away from the landing port, the walls and ceiling of which were polished glass. The sunlight shone dimly through the windows.

"I think that's Bratif's ship," Damar muttered, as they stopped and looked up through the transparent ceiling.

"I hope he doesn't get caught," she said absently.

"He's more wily than you give think, I'm sure," he said with a shrug. "It's the way with Tellarites."

Still unconvinced, Corina bit her lip, frowned, but then sighed and shook her head decidedly. They walked in silence for the next few minutes, through the long concourse. When they reached the end, they caught sight of two burly Orions standing by the door. The group of people in front of Corina and Damar were dressed opulently, lavishly, and when they held up passes, the Orions scanned them and then waved them through the door.

Corina felt her heart begin to thump wildly; she could see her pulse jumping in her wrist. "Damar," she hissed. "We haven't got passes."

For a moment, he looked concerned. Scared, even. But he grinned down at her. "We don't need them."

"What?"

"Try and act high-and-mighty," he then said. "Act like you're Betazoid royalty" Then he smiled. "Or a Legate."

She blinked at him, but then her lips curved into a smile. The two of them lowered their hoods smoothly. Corina gathered her hair from behind her shoulders and brought it forward, toussling it a bit. Then she began walking confidently, and Damar's stride turned into a march. They came to stop in front of the guards, both of which were bald-headed, green-skinned, very tall and very muscular. They were both merely wearing loincloths and had piercings and tattoos decorating their large frames. They also had disruptor rifles held firmly in their large hands.

Corina looked up from under her eyelashes, forced herself to make eye-contact with the guards. Damar's jaw was firm.

"Where are your passes?" one of the Orions demanded.

She fought back the compulsion to glower at Damar. "Who are you to ask us such a question?" she suddenly asked, her throat tight. She felt Damar's eyes on her.

The Orions stared at her, then broke out into a fit of laughter. Sobering up, one of them folded his arms across his broad chest.

"And exactly who are you?" he asked.

She shrugged off her cloak, handed it to Damar, who took it clumsily. Thousands of beams of fading sunlight were reflecting off her silver dress, and she was a vision in silver. She set her hands on her hips, her slim body shifting ever so slightly under the delicate material. She managed to twist her lips into a sneer and she narrowed her eyes. "You don't know who I am?"

"No, we do not," the other Orion said bluntly.

"I am Lady Corina Striker," she said swiftly. "I own seven diamond mines and three moons. And this is Legate Damar, one of my shareholders."

The guards narrowed their eyes.

She tapped her foot. "This dress probably costs more than the entirety of your stock," she declared, adding a derisive snort at the end of her sentence. "Come, we're leaving." She took Damar's arm.

"Wait," one of the guards said quickly, and she turned around with a smile on her face. "Your custom is appreciated."

The other guard cast him a curious look but said no more. He turned and keyed some commands into the computer panel and then the monolithic door swung open with a clang. Corina and Damar stepped through smoothly, and found themselves in the Black Compound.

"I'm impressed," Damar said quietly.

"You should be," she whispered, wrapping her cloak back around her. "Legate."

They had been too busy talking to notice where the where. The room was large, very large. It resembled a shuttle hangar, if the shuttles where she size of Terok Nor. Her senses tried to process the multitude of sights, smells, sounds that were swimming about.

The walls were exceedingly high and were polished and black. There was very little floorspace; most of the room was taken up by bars and tables and pillars. There were also row upon row of what looked like cages. Most of them were empty, but there were a few in which Corina could see people. They were mostly huddled in the corners of the holding cells, and they were all different species. Unconsciously, Corina shifted closer to Damar, put her arm in his.

Then she noticed that Damar's gaze had wandered off to the side. Standing on her tiptoes, she saw where he was looking. Atop one of the tables, there was an Orion woman; she was young and beautiful and wore only a golden skirt. She was dancing, swaying her hips slowly, her eyes intent on the clientèle gathered at her feet. She moved rhythmically, musically, as a melody played out.

Flipping her long black hair behind her shoulders, she dismounted the table, gliding past the gaggle of men. When she was close enough, Corina could see that the woman's eyes were dark purple, her lips moss-green. Then she turned, and Corina saw the woman's hands on Damar's chest.

Damar tried to look away, to pull away. He cleared his throat, but she had put her arms around his neck, and he felt her skin brush against the delicate ridges on his shoulders. But then he saw Corina, saw the distress, the anguish, in her face, and he extricated himself from the woman's grip.

Corina stepped in between them. The Orion hissed at her, then skulked away, back to her table. Corina thought about saying something, but in the end, she kept quiet.

"What is it?" she heard Damar ask after a while.

She looked up, caught his eye. "Nothing." Then a sigh overcame her, and she rubbed her forehead wearily. "There are hardly any people in these holding cells."

Damar frowned. "Surely that's a good thing?"

She shook her head ruefully. "I've been keeping an eye out, and I can't see my brother."

"Are you sure?"

"I know what my brother looks like, Damar," she snapped. Seeing the confusion on his face, she gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry."

He put his arm round her shoulder, pulled her closer to him. "We don't even know if he's here."

"I know," she murmured. "But Bratif told us to head here."

He made a face. "We should never have trusted him. He's played us. That pig-faced-"

She cut him off with a glower. "He was our only hope," she said quickly, though she was starting to have doubts. "Bratif said to come to the Black Compound."

"Have you asked if anyone's seen your brother?"

A frown crossed her features. "I don't think I should," she whispered. "The people here..." She looked around, at the seediness and the shabbiness of the place. She saw the Orion slave-girls dancing their mesmerising dances on the tables and podiums; she saw the gruff Orion guards standing against the walls; and she saw the dirty, forsaken people in the holding cells. "They don't exactly look friendly."

Damar snorted. "Well, who are they to refuse Lady Corina Striker and Legate Damar?"

Biting her lip, shifting her feet, she made up her mind. They swiftly walked over to the nearest holding cell. Inside it were three Klingons. Their long hair and beards were heavily matted and their eyes were dark.

"Excuse me," Corina began, forcing her voice not to falter. "But do any of you know someone called Charlton Striker? He's human and should be wearing a Starfleet uniform."

All three of the Klingons eyed her closely. Then one of them snarled, his upper lip curling. "We know no one of that name," he said tightly.

She did not look away from his menacing stare. "Are you sure?"

"A Klingon is always sure," another of them declared. Then his eyes narrowed and his heavy forehead ridges cast a shadow over his face. "You!" he yelled, and Corina realised that he was talking to Damar.

Damar, unperturbed, stepped forward.

"Cardassian peta'Q!" the Klingon spat. He waved his hand aggressively, lurched to his feet, and tried to swipe at Damar, but the iron bars obstructed him.

"Come on," Corina whispered, taking Damar by the arm.

"You should've let me talk to him," Damar muttered.

She glared at him. "And how exactly would you have made it better? They're Klingons, Damar. To be captured, enslaved, by the Syndicate, must be one of the most dishonourable things!"

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Ask these Betazoids then," he said with a half-hearted gesture to the occupants of the next holding cell, in which were about ten of the empathic aliens.

Corina took a step over to the rusty iron gate. "Excuse me, but have any of you seen anyone in a Starfleet uniform?"

They stared at her, their dark, black eyes watchful.

She felt a shiver crawl through her, as she sensed them reading her emotions, her feelings. She cleared her throat, stepped closer. "Please, he's human. He's called Charlton Striker. He's my brother."

One of them, an elderly man, came forward from the crowd. He was wearing a brown cloak, the ends of which were ragged.

Corina's eyes widened, and she told herself to be calm. She felt Damar's gaze on her back. "Please," she said simply.

"I did see a man in a Starfleet uniform," the Betazoid said. One of his comrades had put a hand on his arm, as if warning him to keep quiet.

"You did?" she pressed.

"Benal," one of the Betazoids hissed to the old man. "Be quiet. We don't know who she is."

He shot the Betazoid a look, then returned his gaze to Corina. "I can sense only good in you," he said softly, holding a grubby hand out through the gap in the bars.

Tentatively, she reached out, placed her hand in his.

"There is so much pain, so much suffering, in here," he continued. "And yet you feel hope… but there is something else… yes… fear. You are afraid."

She tried to retract her hand, but his grip was too firm. "You've seen my brother?" she asked, desperation in her voice.

Slowly, he nodded. "Two days ago."

A smile broke out on her face, tears formed behind her eyes. She blinked, and the salty tears ran down her cheeks. "Do you know where he went?"

"I do not."

Her face fell. "But he was well?"

He considered, his wrinkled forehead coming down in a frown. "He looked better than most people here do."

"But, wait," she said urgently, taking her hand back. "Why did he leave? What was he doing here? Was he..." She swallowed, forced out the next words. "Was he sold?"

The Betazoid's dark eyes were blank and he stepped back, returned to his people. "I have told you all I know."

"But this… this man," she carried on. "He had brown hair? And he was wearing an engineer's uniform?"

He nodded. "That is all that I know." Then he looked over to the space beside her, to Damar. "I can sense something in you, Cardassian."

Damar raised an eyeridge, attempted to usher Corina away, but she did not budge.

"Your heart is strong," Benal said, catching Damar in his steadfast gaze.

Corina stared at Damar through the thick air, curiosity and concern on her face.

"You are also conflicted," the Betazoid continued.

"I don't need to hear it, old man," Damar snapped.

"But, then, underneath it all, I sense guilt, regret."

Then the old Betazoid was gone, and Damar blinked. He was taken out of his reverie by Corina's beautiful face; she was smiling, beaming.

"He was here," she said quickly, softly, her breath running away from her. "Charlton!"

Damar gave her a stern look, put a hand on her arm. "You can't know that. You heard what that Betazoid said; you're too hopeful."

She stared at him. "He didn't say that," she quipped. "Anyway, it's what he said about you that I'm interested in."

He pursed his lips. "What do you mean?"

She pulled him over to a corner, away from the holding cells and the dancers and the noise. "Why do you feel guilty?"

He felt the coldness of the metal wall through his clothes, and he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Because when I look at this place, I'm reminded of Terok Nor."

It was then that she recalled where she'd seen those tired bodies, those haggard faces, those dirty clothes, and it made her sick. "I can see why."

Angrily, he shook his head. "And Bajor – I can see it ancient cities, ruined by mining and warfare."

For a lone time, she wondered what to say. But each thing that she came up with, she discarded. She realised that she couldn't tell him what she truly felt, for fear of upsetting him. And she didn't want to lie.

Then he grinned bitterly, and he told himself that the Occupation wasn't the same as this. The Orion Syndicate was a criminal enterprise, an underground organisation that participated in slavery, drugs trafficking and illegal arms dealings. The Cardassian Union's Occupation of Bajor was not the same thing. The Detapa Council was bringing order to the Quadrant. And that was what he told himself.

"It looks like there's a door over there," Corina eventually said, pointing to the furthest end of the compound. "Perhaps we ought to go down there." Then she felt something, felt his hand holding her chin, and she saw that his blue gaze was on hers. "Damar, what is it?"

"Can I kiss you?"

The question surprised her, pleasantly so, and she drew him down to her height, pressed her lips to his, not caring if people could see.

"You know," she began, and he could feel her warm breath against his cheek. "We're supposed to be business partners."

He laughed. "I suppose this isn't really professional behaviour."

She pulled back, out of the embrace. "Let's head for that door. It must be the way out."

Damar nodded. "We don't want to return to the landing bays."

They had barely started walking when a loud, tinny alarm sounded. Then there was the sound of radio static.

"Officers, clear customers from the aisles," came a gruff voice over a tannoy system. "Newly processed slaves are entering. They are to be put in their assigned holding cells."

Corina stared at Damar, who looked equally dumbstruck, then they both watched as the door at the far end of the compound opened.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Again, so sorry that it's been so long, but I've been busy/distracted/experiencing a deficit in my creative abilities! Anyway, enjoy! And, in case it's not obvious, I've no idea where this is going...**

Two well-muscled Orions came through the door; they were both carrying disruptor rifles. Concern flashed over Corina's face, and she looked over at Damar.

"We should leave," he said firmly, putting a hand on her arm.

But she shook her head. "We can't," she whispered. "My brother could be there."

A frown creased on his brow, his eyeridges knitted together. "Corina, we really should go."

"Let's just stay here a bit longer," she argued; her eyes were wide and desperate, and he gave in.

The Orion guards were stomping through the compound, and it was then that Corina could see the mass of people behind them. Marching sombrely in a two-by-two formation were columns of blank-eyed, dirty-faced, shabbily-dressed individuals. She squinted, stood on her tiptoes, but could see no humans. They turned out to be Trill or Betazoid or Vulcan, and she sighed. She caught a flash of brown hair, of a pale face, and her heart jumped, but it soon settled down once she realised that the alien man wasn't her brother.

"Yeah, let's go," she finally said, catching Damar's eye. "I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to." The atmosphere was making her feel ill, and she had to look away as the Orion soldiers separated the prisoners up and herded them into different holding cells. Fights erupted, insults were hurled and disruptors were fired.

They skulked away, towards the exit. As soon as they were out of the compound and away from its sickening dinginess, Corina leant against a wall. She breathed in, out, looked around. Pressing a hand to her chest, she felt her collarbone, felt her heart pumping.

"It doesn't mean that he isn't on the planet," Damar said quietly, warily, as he watched her from a distance.

She laughed bitterly. "So we've just got an entire planet to patrol?"

He sighed, rubbed his ridged forehead. "If your brother has been taken by the Syndicate, then maybe he just hasn't been processed yet."

"But we can't wait in there forever, Damar!" she quipped. "My trial's in three days, and if we don't find my brother and if he doesn't explain all of this, I'm going to get executed."

"That won't happen."

"How can you know that?" she demanded, her face hot and her words fast.

He came forward, took a hold of her shoulders, regarded her sternly. "We'll find him," he said shortly. "And you must be careful with what you say. There's no telling who is listening."

She knew that she couldn't argue with that, and so she acquiesced. Slowly, she nodded, and then she saw that the two Orion guards who had greeted them earlier were looking their way.

"What do we do now?" she asked glumly.

Realisation flashed across Damar's face, and he grinned. "We ask the guards."

Before she could argue, before she could pull him away, he had crossed over to the two churlish Orions.

"Have either of you seen a human male?" Damar asked, and the bluntness of the question nearly overwhelmed the Orions.

The green-skinned aliens studied him curiously, then cackled with laughter. "We see many humans here. But it is the females that we value more," one of them said, his gaze wandering over to Corina, who stood firm.

"We need a name," the other Orion said.

Damar squared his shoulders. "Charlton Striker. He's an engineer in Starfleet."

"Oh, Starfleet!" the other Orion said, snorting derisively. "Always getting tangled up in things that they don't understand. You must understand, Cardassian?"

Damar only pursed his lips. "Do you know anyone of that name or not?"

One of the Orions drew out a padd and flicked through it. "The name is registered in our database."

"It is?" Corina breathed. "Where is he?" Then her face darkened into a glower. "Oh, you bastards! You've enslaved him, haven't you? I'll bet that you've got him working in some god-damn mine somewhere."

The Orion snorted. "Surely the Lady Corina Striker understands the importance of mining?"

Corina stared at him, her face fell, and her breathing grew haggard. Frantically, she looked around, looked for a way out. But she found none. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a muscle twitch in Damar's jaw, saw his hands curl into fists.

"I- It is different when that person is your brother," she said as smoothly as she could, her gaze firmly on the green aliens. "Where is he?"

The two Orion guards shared an unreadable look. Then one of them smirked, his mouth curling into a sour grin. "We have a record of a C. Striker being in the vicinity."

Corina didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. He was there, or at least, he had been. But, vicinity? What on Earth did that mean? She shook her head, bit her lip. Then she held the Orions firmly in her gaze and they barely flinched. "When? Yesterday? Today? Last week?" She felt Damar's hand curl around her arm, as if warning her to stop. But she wasn't going to drop it.

"Yesterday," the Orion finally offered. He glanced down at the computer screen. "I cannot give you a more specific time, even if you are the owner of seven diamond mines."

"And three moons," she snapped.

The Orion nodded curtly. "Quite."

Damar stepped forward, regarded Corina. "Perhaps we ought to leave."

She didn't look at him. "Legate," she said smoothly. "We are not leaving with this business unfinished." Her gaze remained on the Orions. "Then where is he? Where is my brother?"

The Orion lazily picked up a padd and keyed in some details. He grunted. "According to our database, an individual with a human male biosignature and the name C. Striker passed through this compound. He surveyed the stock in the Grey Wing."

Stock. Corina shivered. The stock was the people herded into cages; the Betazoids, the Vulcans the Klingons, the humans. "He surveyed the stock?" she asked. "So, he wasn't part of the, uh, stock?"

The Orion shook his head. "No. All of our prizes have identity tags."

Damar made a face of displeasure; he knew what that meant. The tags were fitted with an electric relay that would send disruptive charges of energy into the nervous system of the person wearing them, rendering them unconscious or in extreme pain.

"And this C. Striker had no such tag," the other Orion added. "In fact, he was travelling with an entourage."

"He must be quite important, then," Damar muttered.

Corina caught her breath, thought through all of the information. "I- Thank you," she finally said, in spite of herself, in spite of the fact that she was showing gratitude to Orions. "You've been very helpful."

"And now we should go," Damar said gruffly.

Corina gave him a look, a pleading look. She hadn't yet finished quizzing the guards; she had more to say. But she knew that the Orions had been rather too forthcoming with answering her questions. And she didn't want to outstay her welcome.

She drew her hood over her head and Damar did the same. A chill suddenly racked through the large room. It seemed empty, though there were crowds of people walking around and passing through the gates.

"What did you mean when you said that my brother ought to be important?"

Damar pursed his lips, made a face of contemplation. "I didn't mean anything in particular."

"Damar, really. What did you mean?"

"I've heard some talk," he began, leaning down to whisper into her ear. "About a… a group of anti-Cardassian rebels."

"And you seriously think that my brother is a part of that group?" she snapped.

"No, no," he said quickly, raising a hand. "In fact, forget that I said anything."

For a second longer, she stared at him. But then she sighed, thought better of pushing the issue.

"Wait."

"What?"

"What do you think that guard meant by entourage?"

Damar shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, you were thinking about bodyguards and a security detail, weren't you?"

He pursed his lips. "I suppose so."

"But what if the entourage was something different?" Her jaw hung open, her eyes grew wide. "Oh, God! He's been imprisoned. He's been captured." She was growing frantic now, her chest heaving and her breathing laboured. "Charlton! They've got him." She couldn't say much more, for Damar had pulled her into a corner and had pressed her against a wall.

The coldness, the hardness, of the wall pressed through her threadbare clothes and into her skin. She glared at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

He regarded her with serious eyes. "I'm trying to shut you up."

"Pardon?" she hissed, struggling to prise him from off of her.

He loosened his grip and his expression softened, but he was still just as serious. "The Syndicate, they could have eyes and ears everywhere. We need to be quiet and careful. You have to watch what you say and what you do."

"But they've got him, Damar," she said desperately. "Who knows what they'll do to him!"

"We can't know," he murmured. "Not yet, anyway. We need to think about this."

"Can't we just go and ask those guards?"

"No. We can't."

"Why not?"

"Because… My dealings with the Orion Syndicate are quite limited, but I know others who are well-versed in allying with them. Trust me, Corina, it's not a good idea to ask too many questions, to get too curious or to push your luck."

Confusion flashed over her face. "I'm hardly pushing my luck. I just want to know what's happened to my brother. Maybe we can ask Bratif?"

"Bratif is gone," he said quickly, harshly. "And I doubt that he wants to hear from us again."

"Then we'll have to ask the guards."

"We can't just ask them."

"Then, what?"

Damar narrowed his eyes, caught her gaze purposely. "They'll want something in return for the information."

She raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

He rubbed his neck, ran his fingers along the ridges there. "You. They'll want you."

She nearly stumbled backwards. She would've done, had it not been for Damar's hand on the small of her back. "Me? What for-?" Her eyes widened and she felt sick. "Oh, no."

"Exactly," he muttered. "We can't ask them."

"But I'm a Lady," she said softly, as if they were not her words. "Imagine what they'll give out..."

"Corina, you can stop right there. I'm not letting you do that."

"You're not letting me?" she echoed, scoffing. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Someone with common sense."

"You can't stop me. In their eyes, I'm wealthy and I'm powerful."

"But you can't do that to yourself."

The sickness in her stomach dissipated. "I won't have to. Give me your coat."

He thought twice about inquiring further, shrugging off the coat that Bratif had given him. Then Corina did the same. She folded the cloaks into a pile, then left Damar puzzling after her as she strode up to the two guards.

"These are lined with Tholian silk. They are the only two of their kind ever made. The fastenings are glazed with neutron diamonds, fresh from my mine on Calanus II." She wasted no time in thrusting the coats into the arms of the guards.

For a minute, they stared at her, at the coats, at Damar, who looked equally confused.

She continued. "Each one is worth at least seventy bars of gold-pressed latinum." Then her mouth twisted into a wicked grin. "Well, that's on the, uh, honest market. I'm sure that you two could set a much higher asking price." She was looking at them from out of under her lashes, her chest was pushed out, her lips were red and parted. "I forgot to mention… my darling Damar here got me this particular cloak." She reached out her hand and grabbed Damar's arm, hauling him over to stand next to her. "The promise of it attracted me to him in the first place."

One of the Orions put down the coat and frowned. "I thought that the two of you were business associates."

She coiled her hand around Damar's waist, looked at him. "We're many things." She paused, desperate to recollect her thoughts. "You see, the Legate is very good to me. He's very considerate when my workers misbehave and cause me to miss deadlines and he's very understanding when the worth of his shares goes down. In return, I'm very good to him. Aren't I, Damar?"

Knowing that Corina would've stepped on his foot had he not replied, he did so quickly. "In more ways than you can imagine," he said tightly. "Lady Corina is a very worthwhile business partner."

"I presume that you are suggesting that we accept the Lady's offer?" the other guard asked, a suspicious look on his face.

Damar regarded him through a stony facade. "Yes. I wouldn't want you to miss out."

"We are only guards," the other green alien said with a snort. "We do not have enough latinum to buy those coats."

Corina let out her most ridiculous giggle. "Oh, you won't be buying them. I'm not that mean."

The Orions stared at her, blinking.

"I only ask for one tiny payment and it is not of the monetary kind."

"What is it?" they asked, narrowing their eyes.

"Give me a padd."

"A padd?"

"Yes, that's it. That's all that I want. A padd. One of the ones from your security systems." 


	19. Chapter 19

"Are you just going to stand there?" Corina had her arms folded, her eyes narrowed and was tapping her foot impatiently on the metal floor of the compound. Night was falling on Magnus IV and its twin moons were soon taking over the sky. As the last of the sunlight disappeared beneath the horizon, she caught Damar's eye. 

He groaned, rubbed the nape of his neck. "I might."

She let out a sigh. "Damar, we can't just stand around. Take a look at the padd, please."

Her beautiful face contorted into an expression of worry, of concern. He took a deep breath, considered, then crossed over to her. The main bit of the compound was not too far behind them, but they had managed to stow themselves away in a little alleyway. The padd was in her outstretched hand. Swiftly, he took it and began to look through it.

He shook his head. "There's an awful lot of information on here. Sensitive information."

She frowned, looked at the padd from over his shoulder. "I don't care about that. What can you find out about my brother?"

"Well, my understanding of the Orion language could certainly be better," he muttered. "But I think that I've got an idea."

She was watching him with eager eyes, desperate, even.

"It looks like he's been transferred from this compound to another one somewhere on this planet."

"It's a planet," she quipped. "It's massive."

"I can't find a more precise location other than the fact that it's on the Western Continent."

"Which is where we are."

He nodded. "See? It could be worse."

She snorted. "Not much worse."

"Anyway," he continued. "According to these Syndicate files, there's an internment complex called the Fortress about ten kilometres from here."

She swallowed at the sound of the name.

Damar keyed a few more things into the padd. "The Fortress is where the Syndicate keeps enemies of the state, terrorists and war criminals." He pinched his nose. "Corina, the Orions can turn a blind eye to murder, to rape. But they'll never let crimes against the Syndicate go unpunished."

She wanted to cry, to scream, to swear. "But Charlton hasn't done anything to upset the Syndicate! He was in a war, a war against Cardassia!"

He resisted the urge to flinch at the mention of his home-planet.

"But your people..." she began. Then she noticed the uncomfortable look on Damar's face. She cleared her throat. "The Cardassian Union, I mean, they've got ties with the Syndicate, haven't they?"

Damar shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I wouldn't exactly say that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, then, what would you call it?" She began to pace, to walk around in circles. Then she raised a dismissive pair of hands. "Nevermind. Ten kilometres isn't far. We can get there on foot easily. Actually, I think that that's it over there."

Squinting in the glare of the moonlight, Damar followed her line of sight. There, sitting comfortably on the horizon, he saw a vast building. It was nothing but utter black and it seemed to reach almost up to the sky. There were no windows, as far as he could see. It was simply sat there, watchful and dominant.

"I never did thank you," Damar said suddenly, the words coming out nearly unbidden.

She blinked at him. "Thank me? For what?"

"For having the initiative to sell those stupid guards our coats."

She offered him a genial smile. "It wasn't too much bother. Besides, we both know that the alternative wasn't all that favourable."

"That is, if they didn't shoot us on the spot because they'd gotten bored with us," he murmured.

"We'd better get moving," she said smoothly. "It's probably best if we move at night."

They had entered something of a metropolis. After an hour or so walking away from the compound, they came to the brow of a hill, beyond which was a busy city centre. All sorts of aliens were rushing about and shouting. Corina caught sight of what looked like a hovertrain and wasted no time in beckoning Damar over. He came over warily and followed her onto the vehicle.

"At least we don't have to walk," he muttered.

She threw him a grin. "Don't worry, I'll look after you."

He smiled. "I'm sure that you will." Then, without a moment's thought, he touched his lips to her forehead; she did not startle, instead leaning into his touch.

Out of the windows, she could see lines of trees. They looked like conifers, their hue being a dark green and their leaves being spindly. She felt a smile curl on her lips. "That must be the Boundary Forest."

"The what?"

She shifted away from him, nodded towards the window and the view beyond it. "Remember when we were leaving Bratif's ship? Well, he said that we should head for the Boundary Forest."

"We didn't."

She nodded. "I know. We went straight to the compound. Why would Bratif have told us to go straight to the forest, when we got some really useful information at the compound?"

Damar shrugged, grunted. "I don't know. But I knew that we couldn't trust him."

Corina bit her lip, sighed. "Maybe you were right." She found herself thinking back over their time with Bratif. He had offered them a place to stay, clothes to wear and food to eat. It was under duress, of course, but he had done it anyway.

Silence passed between them and enveloped the hovertrain carriage. Corina found herself looking around the carriage, at the few other aliens who were sat in it. It wasn't particularly busy.

"Do you think that it will happen?" she asked suddenly, as if her words were not her own.

Damar grunted, looked up, caught her eye pointedly. "What?"

"The withdrawal from Bajor," she finished.

He cleared his throat, shifted in his seat. "I don't know, but we've suffered because of the attack on Setlik III and the Bajoran Resistance is rallying more now than ever before."

"It's probably inevitable," she said softly.

There was an announcement over the tannoy system. It announced that the final stop was coming up.

"Sounds like it terminates here," Corina muttered, sighing and getting to her feet. She made for the aisle, then for the door.

Damar raised an eye-ridge, cast a suspicious look around himself. "We haven't gone very far."

The hovertrain was still travelling but its speed was definitely slowing. There was a buzz, a hum, then it glided to a stop.

Corina met his gaze. "Yeah..." she began, furrowing her brow. "We can't have gone more than two miles."

With the hovertrain at a halt, its doors slid open with an impatient hiss. Corina stepped down from the vehicle and onto the platform; Damar soon followed.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking around. The hovertrain had stopped at a station, it seemed, but there was no one around, Orion or otherwise. She had been too busy thinking about their situation that she failed to realise that she was stood right outside of the hovertrain's doors. Damar had since drifted away and was regarding a map that was stuck on a wall; he was close enough, though, to see that Corina was in the way of the other passengers. There weren't many of them, but one businessman-type collided with her and sent her staggering forwards a few feet.

She recollected herself, stared at the person who had walked into her. His elbow had jabbed sharply into her side and she was very nearly winded.

She stared after him as he walked swiftly away, disappearing into the small crowd of people as they left the station behind them. Rubbing her bruised side, she glared at the man. Damar sauntered over, narrowing his eyes.

"Did you see that?"

She scoffed. "See it? I felt it!"

A grin formed on his lips. "You were standing in the way."

"I was," she conceded. "But he still could've apologised. Now I'm going to be in pain and in prison." Her face fell.

He touched a hand to her face, cupping her chin in his palm. "You won't be going to prison, Corina."

"In two days, I will be," she murmured, looking away. "What did you see on the map?"

He shrugged. "Oh, nothing interesting. Just that we're next to the Boundary Forest."

She raised an eyebrow, pointed to the row of trees that stood not more than a hundred metres from where they were currently were. "I could've told you that." She bit her lips. "I can't see any timetables or anything. It looks like that was the last hovertrain for some time."

"It'd be quicker if we went by foot, I'm sure."

Corina sighed, thought of her aching feet. She looked back in the general direction where the man who had walked into her had gone, as well as all of the other passengers, but she couldn't see anything. They had gone.

"The man who bumped into me," she began, her voice quiet, as if unsure. "He didn't have green skin."

Damar simply regarded her.

"And he didn't have blue skin."

Again, Damar just stared.

"I think that he was human."

"Corina," he said firmly. "He could've been a Trill, or a Bajoran. Maybe a Vulcan, or a Romulan."

She shook her head. "No, no," she said quickly. "I'm sure that he was human." She cast her mind back, a feat which wasn't all too difficult, considering that her side was still hurting. The man was dressed well, very well, but she could remember something about his eyes. They seemed tired, glazed over, perhaps. His lips had been pressed together firmly, as though he wanted to prevent himself from saying anything. He had his head low, his gaze on the ground.

"Do you recognise him?" Damar asked.

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so." Then she smiled. "I mean, there are billions of humans. I'm hardly going to know them all, am I?"

A moment of silence passed between them. Damar looked over at the map again. "We need to go through the forest."

She caught his eye deliberately, pointedly. She made a face. "We can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," she murmured, rubbing her forehead. She felt tired, weary. But the sun was at least waning, as it threatened to sink down below the distant horizon. Corina caught Damar's eye. "Come on, we ought to get going."

He stared after her as she stalked over to the treeline, over to the Boundary Forest.

"You're going in there?" he asked, raising an eye-ridge.

She ignored his smirk and simply trudged on. The sun's light was dimming, and she knew that it would be dark soon. But then she noticed that something was wrong. Damar wasn't behind her. He wasn't following her. A frown creased on her brow. "Damar?" she called out, as she span around.

There was no answer.

She sighed. "Damar, seriously. I'm not in the mood for this! Come on!"

Again, there was nothing. Somewhere, a wolf - or some wolf-like creature – howled. A flock of nocturnal birds cawed and flew away. There was a sudden breeze, and she folded her arms.

"Damar, we really need to get a move on," she moaned, rubbing her upper-arms with her hands, desperately trying to keep warm. But the friction was no use. She groaned, rubbed her forehead. "Damar, please."

It was then that she realised that something was up. She was stepping backwards, going back on herself; she looked around, hoping to see the hovertrain station. But it was no longer there. The air was dark and misty, and the sun had all but deserted her. But she wasn't going to panic, or worry. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then opened them again. it was still dark, of course, but she could see a bit better. She couldn't remember exactly how long she'd been walking for, or when she had last heard Damar's voice or seen his face – twisted into a smirk as it was.

She clenched her jaw shut, stopped her teeth from chattering. There was something in the distance, something moving. She didn't flinch, but remained completely still. The thing came closer and closer, but she only sighed. It looked like a rabbit, a rather large alien rabbit. She smiled to herself, shook her head. Her clothing was thread-bare and she didn't have the padd with her; Damar had taken it. That comforted her somewhat; at least he knew where he was going. Unless, she thought, something was preventing him from using it. She shuddered, resenting the fact that they had handed their expensive coats to the Orion guards.

The nights on Magnus IV were short. That was why the Orions had chosen it as their main-base. For, the fewer hours of darker that there were, the less likely it was that their merchandise would escape. The branches of the trees were getting longer, it seemed, feeling for her and poking her. She gasped, looked down at her elbow, saw a thin line of scarlet blood.

But there was a noise which caught her attention, and it wasn't natural. it was man-made, and she didn't know whether to be afraid or pleased. She took tentative steps, her feet treading lightly on the leafy soil. Her shoes squished and squelched as she moved, but she held her breath and bit her tongue. Then she was nearly knocked over, not by physical force but by sound. It was deafening, almost like an air-raid siren. It honked and beeped at some decibel which she had never before experienced. Her hands were on her ears, shielding them from the blast of noise; she had hunkered down to the muddy ground; and her eyes were clamped tightly shut.

It was over as quickly as it had started. The siren went off and she rose to her feet. She had come to some sort of metal-grid. It was a fence. She looked around for signs which might have told her that it was electrified but she saw none. Her eyes partially closed, she reached out gingerly. Her fingers curled around the wire mesh, but she felt nothing. She sighed with relief.

The hover-train had definitely taken them somewhere; she had felt – and seen - it move. She saw now that, despite the dark, despite the hour or so that had passed, she was standing outside of another internment complex. This one looked larger, much larger, from the outside, at least. It was built like a fortification, a castle, a Medieval fort that was defended against all sorts of enemy attacks. She blinked. It was The Fortress. She could just about make out the shrill commands of the Orion overseers. It reminded her of the Bajoran Occupation. Nausea crept through her body.

Corina's jaw dropped. She stumbled backwards, into a tree, her hand clamped over her open mouth. She felt even more sick now; it was all the more worse because she could not cry out, she could not shout out. She could only watch as the Cardassian was struck in the head with the butt of a phaser-rifle, as he was shackled in force-field hand-cuffs, as he was lead away to the massive door of the prison hangar.

"Damar," she muttered, but no one heard.


End file.
